


Czerwona Rozpacz

by PurrV



Category: Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:12:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 96,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurrV/pseuds/PurrV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Towers is home to the egotistical and the vain, the city of beauty where models are treated as gods. Jazz, a black ops war veteran, enters the city to work for the infamous Mortal Sol in order to find a killer. However all is not as it seems for the city holds many secrets, not everyone is who they seem, and a young outcast might be the key to solving everything or destroying everything Jazz held dear</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery_  
  
\----------------------------------  
  
The neon rain finally passed over as Jazz, a veteran from a war long past, sped down the wet highway. Traffic wasn't too bad and he was making decent time, despite the unexpected rain. The sol peeped through the sulphur clouds high above him, and Jazz could not deny that it was a pleasant view, considering he was on the northern hemisphere of Cybertron. Growing up on the southern side of the world wasn't the best place to appreciate the sol, since it rarely shined down there.    
  
A sound from his comm unit brought him back to attention, and he quickly answered the call. "I'm on route," he said instantly, knowing full well who would call him out of the blue.  
  
"Noted," came a cool stoic reply. "Just to confirm, they are expecting you in exactly twelve minutes, and they want to be impressed. I assume you have the credentials?"  
  
"This is me ya talkin' to," retorted Jazz, with a little cheek. "Everythin' will go as planned. I got this. I'll call ya later."  
  
He hanged up, knowing he'll get another call in about an hour, despite his promise. He continued driving down the damp highway, turning off at the next junction, driving through a bright city, getting closer to his destination. A few more turns down the city streets, he spotted a sign that told him he was going in the right direction.  
  
"Welcome to the Towers."  
  
Jazz still could not believe that he was entering the famous city, named for its tall and majestic towers. Mechs like him were frowned upon in a city like this, as it was home to the most egotistical and narcissistic society, on all of Cybertron. Being there, however, made one forget it was home to such a community of vain Cybertronians. The Towers was a whole city was made up of towering buildings of metal and glass, stretching up so high, they almost breached the stratosphere. Walkways and roads were built around the gigantic buildings, allowing its citizens to travel from any level anywhere. In fact, some say that if you were in the middle level of the city, you could see neither the top nor the bottom of it.  
  
Continuing with the last leg of his journey, he eventually reached a manned security gate, where it prevented unauthorised personal from entering a certain group of towers. Converting from his vehicle mode, he was approached by two security guards.   
  
"Primus, even their security force is all dolled up," muttered Jazz, as the guards approached him, noticing how shiny their armour was. Pretty to look at, but it wouldn't last a second in combat.  
  
"What is your business here," demanded one of the guards.  
  
Jazz held up a pass, smirking a little. "I'm here for the Mortal Sol," he replied coolly.  
  
The guard gave Jazz a funny look, before he gave the pass a quick look over, gasping aloud after reading its contents. He motioned the other guard to open the gate, and ushered Jazz in. "They're expecting you," he said, pointing towards the entrance of the nearby tower, "let them know at the front desk. They'll take it from there."  
  
Jazz thanked them silently and walked onwards, knowing he had plenty of time left. He climbed a set of steep chrome stairs, ignoring how some passerby's stared at him with shock, and entered the building. Inside one of the towers, that gave the city its name, Jazz found that the inside was almost as beautiful as the building outside. The floors gleamed of cleanness, awe inspiring statues were put out on display, glowing crystals dangled from the ceiling, exotic plants decorating the vast foyer, but the stench of the fragrant rich wax nearly made Jazz purge. All around him, mechs and femmes rushed about, going about their daily business, all of them with ridiculously bright paintwork, and over the top frames decorating their bodies. No other place like this existed anywhere else on Cybertron, and from his first visit, Jazz could see why.  
  
Making his way over to the main desk, many turned their olfaction sensors up at him, sneering in disgust, and gasping when they nearly made contact with him. Ignoring them all, Jazz leaned against the main desk, giving the femme sitting behind it one of his best smiles.  
  
"The names Jazz, sweetspark," he announced, "I'm here 'bout the Mortal Sol."  
  
The secretary gave him a polite smile, before checking the pass Jazz held out for her, and the data on her computer system. "Jazz of Tyger Pax?" she confirmed, "you're early. I'll let them know you arrived, in the meantime, please have a seat."  
  
Jazz chose to stand and wait, leaning against the desk and observing the main foyer. On the walls and hovering overhead were a large number of advertisements, each one displaying a fair model and the product they advertised. Some promoted perfumed body wax, others promoted racing wheels, and one of them even promoted the featuring model. Gazing around some more, he spotted a blank one, that simply stated,  
  
"Coming soon. Beauty Immortal."  
  
Jazz could only assume that it was some brand of perfume, or something.  
  
"Jazz of Tyger Pax?" Hearing his name, Jazz looked around until he spotted a petite femme rushing towards him. "A pleasure to meet you," she squeaked, skidding to a halt before him, "I am Glyph, junior assistant to Quadocular, the manger of the Mortal Sol. We weren't expecting you to arrive early."  
  
"Only by a minute, sweetspark," chuckled Jazz.  
  
"Well here in the Towers, a minute less or a minute more makes a huge difference," giggled Glyph, trying to be friendly. "Follow me please."  
  
Letting her lead, Jazz stuck close with the small femme, following her through the foyer and down a long hallway. "He's in the middle of a shoot, but it shouldn't be an issue if we wait on the set," explained Glyph, guiding Jazz into an elevator.  
  
As the elevator shot upwards, the glass interior gave Jazz a wonderful view of the city. "It wouldn't surprise me if this sight never tires ya," said Jazz.  
  
"Only if you were born here," responded Glyph, with a smile. "Fun fact: this entire Tower we're in, is owned by Pulchritudo INC. Most corporations and businesses only own part of a single tower. The fact that Pulchritudo INC owns a whole tower, makes them one of the most powerful corporations on all of Cybertron."  
  
"Cool," replied Jazz, trying to sound interested.  
  
"In fact, Pulchritudo INC is attempting to take control of another tower; the Prima Tower," continued Glyph, "Prima Tower used to house three hundred and eighty one companies. Pulchritudo INC now owns two hundred of those companies, and it is believed they'll have the whole Tower in about one hundred years."   
  
The small femme continued to talk Jazz's audios off, until they finally reached their destination. Leaving the glass elevator, Jazz now found himself in a long white corridor, where even more mechs and femmes dashed about, disappearing and reappearing from rooms with red lights above them. Some of them were pulling rails of flashy garments, whilst others carried boxes of expensive paint, and some of them were just holding heavy duty briefcases, as if their lives depended on it. There were orders being barked, angry questions demanding answers, and inquiries being fulfilled with little praise. Jazz swerved in and out of the chaos, letting Glyph guide him through all of it.   
  
"It's even busier up here, than it was down below," snorted Jazz.  
  
"This is the busiest studio in this entire building," explained Glyph, "and this isn't busy. We're actually quite chilled out at the moment." Jazz found that one even harder to believe. It was like a war zone up here, and he fought in one.   
  
After some more ducking and turning, they reached a studio door. The light above it was lit, and a sign next to it stated, Studio 85: The Mortal Sol. Glyph used a pass to unlock the door, and ushered Jazz in, with urgency. As soon as he stepped in, she closed the door.  
  
"Please keep quiet whilst we're in here," she whispered. Jazz gave her a thumbs up and followed after her as she lead on, trying to be as quiet as he could.   
  
Inside the studio, there was a lot to be seen. It was a large room, with hundreds of lights adorning the ceiling, and crammed with so many things. In one corner, 'bots were arranging garments, quietly discussing among themselves which one would be suitable for the next shot. In another corner, a group of important looking 'bots were surrounding a large table, studying photos and organising them. Some of them would agree on one and store it in a sturdy case, but the ones they didn't agree on were put into a pile for possible destruction, or maybe it was a yet-to-be-decided pile.  
  
Walking in further, he spotted a long table filled with sweet looking energon treats, where 'bots were either replenishing or eating from it. There was also music playing from somewhere, and every now and then, Jazz would detect a flash coming from somewhere. He followed Glyph round a corner, until the small femme told him to wait.   
  
Looking up, he saw the source of the flash; a mech holding an expensive looking camera, and constantly taking photos, whilst shouting words of praise to someone. He couldn't see who he was photographing, for a large screen was in the way. Nearby were a collection of chairs, some of them were occupied, and one of them had a sleeping insectibot on it. Sitting next to the sleeping beast, was a tall dark blue and silver mech, with two pairs of turquoise optics, hidden behind a unique set of glasses.  
  
Glyph walked over and talked to the seated mech for a moment, pointing towards Jazz. Without uttering a word, he slowly rose from where he sat, and approached Jazz with a calm but strict smile. "You must be Jazz of Tygar Pax," he said, extending a dark hand towards him, "I must say, you are rather early for the meeting. We were not expecting you, until today's session was completed."  
  
Jazz smiled as casually as he could, whilst shaking the open hand. "I prefer to be early," he replied. "Gives me the chance to learn of my surroundings."  
  
The four optic mech shooed Glyph away, before responding. "Very smart, very smart indeed. I'm certain my dear Glyph has already told you, but a second more or a second less can make a vast difference here in the Towers." He bowed his head before continuing, "Well, I am Quadocular, the manager for the Mortal Sol."  
  
Jazz studied his appearance for a brief moment. The mech reminded him of of those organic insects he read in data pads, not the hideous ones that made him queasy, but rather the pretty ones. He also had the strangest set of limbs Jazz had ever seen. From the elbow down on his arms, his forearms branched off into two separate limbs, making it look like he had four arms. His legs were doubled jointed, his pedes appearing sharp but delicate.  All of his limbs decorated with thin metal quills, and polished until Jazz was able to see his reflection upon them, his black and dark blue colours looking majestic upon his slim frame. Given his unique appearance, Jazz could only wonder what kind of vehicular mode the mech had. He seemed calm and looked friendly enough, but this was only their first meeting.   
  
"He's almost done," said Quadocular, standing back up, "you can watch if you like. Just please don't make any sudden moves beyond that line-" Jazz spotted the long black and yellow line upon the floor "-because the last thing we need is for someone to distract him." Jazz gave him a silent acknowledgement, slowly following him around the large screen.  
  
The photographer continued to snap pictures, and continued to give out sickening praise. Peeping round the screen, Jazz spotted a flash of yellow, and his optics landed upon something quite stunning. "So that's the Mortal Sol, huh?"  
  
Standing alone, completely surrounded by white, a young mech posed before the camera. His frame was a brilliant golden yellow, with hints of black here and there to make his bright paintwork stand out. His was a medium build, with a neat but glorious helm design, and a pure white face filled with charm. The way he moved was enchanting, elegant, and graceful, and every pose he made was worthy of praise from the photographer.  
  
"Isn't he just splendid?" sighed Quadocular, clasping his hands in admiration.  
  
Jazz wasn't certain how to respond, so he just nodded his head in agreement. "He certainly knows how to work it," he said.  
  
"He's the best model we've ever had," gloated Quadocular, "with over seven hundred sponsors, holding the top model title for over six centuries, and getting a role in an upcoming movie dedicated to the Towers first model, he truly is a blessing to us here, at Pulchritudo INC."  
  
"A movie? I guess he'll be real busy," pondered Jazz.  
  
"He's a model, my good mech," chortled Quadocular, "he's always busy."  
  
A loud ringing sound filled the air, and someone shouted, "alright, that's a wrap! Pack it up so we can go home!" The studio was suddenly filled with movement, as everyone began to clear up from today's activities. The photographer put his camera away, after handing the card holding all of his captured pictures, to his assistant. The garments were stored away in the blink of an optic, the tables were cleared in a matter of seconds, and there were already cleaners buffing the floor. A group of mechs, carrying towels and bottles of expensive energon, dashed towards the yellow model, handing him what he needed.  
  
"You were wonderful, sir!" they shrieked, being careful not to stand to close to him. "You were spectacular!"  
  
"Aren't I always?" boasted the model, strutting off the set.  
  
Quadocular excused himself from Jazz's presence, and walked on over to the Mortal Sol. Before Jazz could join them, his comm went off again. Sighing in annoyance, he discreetly answered the call. "Call me back later," he hissed, "I'm in the middle of somethin' and you're not helpin' me!"  
  
"Apologies, but I forgot to mention this," came the stoic voice from before, "no matter what you do, do not touch the target. I repeat, do not make any physical contact with him."  
  
From the corner of his optics, Jazz spotted Quadocular walking back towards him, with the model. "Noted," he said, before hanging up. He turned round to face the two mechs, smiling as if nothing had happened.  
  
"Jazz, allow me to introduce the Mortal Sol," announced Quadocular, "young sir, this is Jazz of Tygar Pax, your new bodyguard."   
  
The model stepped forward, eyeing Jazz with vigilant optics. "You're quite robust, aren't you," he mused, slowly circling Jazz.  
  
"Is that an issue?" asked Jazz.  
  
"No, it's a good thing actually," responded the model, "before, they sent me lanky fools who wouldn't know the first thing about basic defence, if you smacked their faces with a manual." He stood in front of Jazz again, staring up at him. "Apparently you were the top of your class, at the defence academy. Think you you can handle a crowd of love struck fans?"  
  
"I don't think I can, I know I can," responded Jazz confidently. "If anyone so much as attempts to touch ya, I'll make 'em leave without the means to touch anyone."  
  
The model broke into a smile and chuckled. "I like him," he declared.  
  
Quadocular stepped forward, holding out a digital sheet. "All is left for you to do is read and sign the contract," he explained.  
  
"Ah, an infamous contract," snickered Jazz, taking it from the four optic mech, "heard these are a real pain in the rear plating up here."  
  
His statement was met with a few sharp glares, but it only caused the model to laugh out loud. A nearby assistant ran over, her face filled with concern. "Sir, please don't laugh too much," she pleaded, "you just had your face treated."  
  
"We're you injured?" queried Jazz, a little concerned.  
  
"Oh no, no," giggled the model, "if I laugh too much, they think I'll ruin my face."  
  
Jazz rolled his optics and looked back at the contract. It was all very standard, with a few things that would make one raise an optic brow, but it was to be expected. He was allowed to freely move around the city, allowed to stay in the Mortal Sol's home to guard him, was granted his own room with a good wage, and he was even allowed to leave to visit family and friends, unless he had to guard his client, meaning he had to drop everything and return no matter what it was.   
  
Considering this was a Towers contract, this one was actually not so bad. Contracts were everything in this towering city, and to break one was like committing a federal offence, punishable by execution. Jazz was warned beforehand about this, so he was prepared to read every line before signing anything. This wasn't the first Towers contract Jazz had to sign, for he had to sign quite a few before entering the city, and a few hundred more before he was granted permission to approach the Mortal Sol. The Towers loved their data trail, no matter what the other cities thought of it.  
  
Once he was happy, Jazz gave the contract his digital signature, and handed it back. "Anything else?" he asked.  
  
"Nope," replied the model, "but I will have to show you where I live, since you'll be staying there with me."  
  
"Really?" That was a little surprising. "Don't I get a handover from your old bodyguard?"  
  
The Mortal Sol gave Jazz a dark look. "He broke his contract," he stated.  
  
That was all Jazz needed to hear.  
  
\----------------------------------------------  
  
The walk from the studio to the penthouses wasn't that far. Thankfully all of Pulchritudo INC's models lived and worked in the same tower, and they all lived up on the highest floors. Still, the tower was fifteen miles wide, so it was still quite a walk to get to the nearest elevator that would take one to the penthouse level.  
  
As they walked, the Mortal Sol was constantly on his comm, either confirming something or disagreeing with someone, possibly about photo shoots or sponsors. Quadocular pretty much did the same thing, but he was also holding a leash, with that insectibot scurrying on the other end. The little black, yellow and purple critter growled and chirped as it chased after his owner, it's antennas twitching in a way that made Jazz grimace with distaste. He wasn't sure why, but stuff like that made him feel queasy.  
  
Once the Mortal Sol was finished with his call, he looked back over at Jazz. "There are guides and manuals located in your room, along with your own personal energon storage facility. You are allowed in any room, except mine."  
  
"Anything else.... er, sir?" asked Jazz.  
  
The model chuckled a little. "You can call me Sunstreaker," he said. "I hate it when people address me like that."  
  
"That's your real name?" inquired Jazz.  
  
"Yes. Sounds pretty, doesn't it?" boasted the model.  
  
Jazz didn't think so, it just sounded a little over the top.  
  
When they reached the elevators, another mech walked out of one. Like Sunstreaker, he was pretty to look at, and was surrounded by a group of mechs, so Jazz could only guess that he was a model too. His frame was a dark shade of blue, and his face was a bright shade of red, and he reeked of some overpowering perfume. The blue model was already giving Sunstreaker a foul look.  
  
"So Mortal Sol, I heard you landed quite the deal with a second grade beauty company," he hissed. "Are you getting that desperate?"  
  
Sunstreaker merely glared at him as he entered the elevator. "My image deserves to be on everything, Blue Flame. Why ask? Are you not happy with your ratings? Heard they went down a little." The blue mech gave Sunstreaker an evil glare as the elevators doors closed, behind them. "Primus, that Tracks is such a whiny bitch," muttered the model, leaning against the glass wall.   
  
"His ratings have dropped a little compared to yours," informed Quadocular, checking some data on his personal media pad, "but he is fighting to get a deal with Firestar Motors. If he succeeds, he might overtake you in the next quarter."  
  
"Then work faster and get me that Sweet Slurp deal," snapped Sunstreaker, "it may be a lousy energon sweet company, but with my image on their products, they'll fly off the shelves. I'll be so far in the lead, he'll need to sign a contract with a third rate beauty company."  
  
"Working on that, and you have to make an appearance at the new Celestial Spa, they just opened in the Solus Tower," continued Quadocular, "they're sending over the usual present tomorrow, along with a complimentary sample of their new perfumed wax. They want your permission to name it after you."  
  
"Only after I tested it. If I detest it, they can name it after Tracks," snapped Sunstreaker. "Have the gift sent to the usual place, and order me some more of that nucleon liquor."  
  
Jazz could only try to zone out as they continued chattering. Was this the life of a model? It seemed so much more stressful than he had imagined. So many appointments, sponsors, and deals to make, it almost made them sound like politicians, trying to battle each other to win the publics favours. He just assumed that all they did was stand around and get told how pretty they were.  
  
"Have you ever been this high before?" asked Sunstreaker, addressing him out of the blue.  
  
"Hmm? Oh no, I don't think I have," replied Jazz.  
  
"Well you're in luck," giggled Sunstreaker, "I live in the twenty thousand section, all they way at the top. We call it the TT sector."  
  
"So you live on the top of this tower?" confirmed Jazz.  
  
"Oh Primus no," snorted Sunstreaker, "all of the models live in the twenty thousand section, which is about two hundred floors down from the peak of the tower. I live at the top of the twenty thousand section, and here in the Towers, the higher you live, the more important you are."  
  
Jazz processed this information. So all of the models of Pulchritudo INC, live in one section of this tower. Since Sunstreaker lived above them all, it meant he was the most important model of them all.  
  
"Do you share floors?" asked Jazz, trying to understand his new home.   
  
"The tower narrows the higher it goes," explained Quadocular, "the models who live in the lower part of the TT section, have to share their floor with the other less popular models. Since the Mortal Sol lives at the top of the TT, where he belongs, he is the proud owner of a five mile wide floor. It is a marvellous penthouse, with seven rooms, all with en suites, it's own spa, an emergency studio, enormous walk in wardrobes, and the largest balcony in the whole building. It even has an indoor Luna garden."  
  
Jazz tried to look impressed. "That grand, huh?"  
  
"Two million years ago, a Prime used to live in it," boasted Sunstreaker.  
  
"You may as well be one, sir," chortled Quadocular.  
  
It was a good thing he was wearing a visor, for he had to roll his optics at that one. Jazz was right about one thing about this place, and that was these models were just awful. He had to shift a little when the little insectibot started to rub up against his leg, the wretched little thing purring and chirping as it did.  
  
They finally reached their destination, and the elevator door slid open to reveal a small, but beautiful white hallway. A large door stood at the other end of the room, surrounded with security cameras and sensors, and a pair of decorative golden statues. Jazz's visor allowed him to see all of the invisible lasers, and he was impressed with how many there were, including additional high tech security sensors. This must be the front entrance to Sunstreaker's home.  
  
Sunstreaker approached the door, clearing his throat before declaring, "The Mortal Sol has returned. With guests." There were several clicks and whirrs, before the door opened. The three mechs entered and found themselves in a large hall. "Home sweet home," yawned Sunstreaker, opening a large set of doors that lead into a beautiful living room.  
  
Like the entrance, it was completely white in colour. There was a large window on one side of the room, giving one a spectacular view of the city. Near the centre of the room was a circular sunken couch, with a high tech media player situated in the middle, and even a game system near it. There were a group of couches on the other end of the room, and next to that was a fancy looking kitchen facility, filled with different brands and different treats. Along the walls were some posters and advertisements, all featuring Sunstreaker, and there were some personal photos on display as well. It was a beautiful home, but Jazz had yet to see all of it.  
  
Sunstreaker stretched a little before turning to Jazz. "Your room is just through that door, down the hallway, and on the left," he informed. "Bob has been using it as a playroom while it's been vacant."  
  
"Bob?" That was an odd name.  
  
"Yes, he's quite a troublesome little critter, aren't you Bob?" Sunstreaker bent down to pet the little insectibot, who purred and growled. "Who's a little naughty critter? You are! Yes you are," cooed the model, tickling his little pet.  
  
"I'll just be in the library, updating your compilation," announced Quadocular, taking his leave.  
  
Sunstreaker stood back up, shooing his pet away. "So there is a map of the property in your room, you'll need to enter your information into the security system, we can do that later. What else? Oh, I need to give you an emergency pager, and I'm going to need your contact details."  
  
"Of course," replied Jazz, "is there anythin' I need to know about this place? Any other rooms I'm not allowed in? Weak points? Any place a fan of yours could break into?"  
  
The model thought for a moment, and gasped when he remembered something. "Oh yes, there was something I didn't mention to you earlier! I was so caught up in my work I completely forgot. You see, I-"  
  
Before he could finish, Quadocular returned. "Begging your pardon sir, but I just got a call from his highness. Something regarding the new policy."  
  
Sunstreaker released an angry sigh, stamping a lone foot upon the marble floor. He quickly composed himself, and coughed in embarrassment. "I'll be right back," he said, walking off to join Quadocular, and leaving Jazz all alone.  
  
Looking out the window, he heaved as he gazed down at the metropolis. "Good thing I don't have vertigo," he murmured to himself. Bob continued to try and gnaw at his legs, and Jazz continued to try and shoo him away. "Go on, get!" he spat, trying not to touch it. It ignored him at first, but then all of a sudden he scurried off, vanishing through an open door. Jazz was just happy it was gone.   
  
Before he could relax, his comm went off again. He groaned in disbelief as he answered it. "Seriously, can't you leave me alone for one minute?" he huffed.  
  
"I left you alone for one hour," retorted the voice from the other end, "now give me an update."  
  
"Well, I'm in," grunted Jazz, placing an arm upon the window, as he leaned against it. "You weren't kiddin' about these bratty models, and their contracts."  
  
"You signed the contract they presented you?" demanded the caller, "you read it? Did you understand it?  
  
"Yeah, yeah," replied Jazz.  
  
"Good. As long as you obey the conditions in the contract, you'll be able to carry out your investigation," informed the caller, "any progress so far?"  
  
"I just literally walked through the front door," snapped Jazz, curling his hand into an agitated fist. "I'm still not even sure what I'm looking for."  
  
Jazz heard an frustrated sigh from the other side. "All we know is that it has something to do with that model," continued the caller, "we're still digging up clues, but I think we found something. Can't confirm it yet."  
  
"Cool," replied Jazz, "so where is a good place to meet up?"  
  
"Gears Grease Cakes," answered the caller.  
  
"Seriously?" snorted Jazz, a little amused, "you hate places like that."  
  
"A Tower bot will stick out like a sore digit there," explained the caller, "now to get there, you will have to leave the city, but it's right by the border..."  
  
As Jazz listened to the directions, something caught his attention. In the window before him, someone's reflection was showing behind his, someone walking behind him. He couldn't quite see who, but it wasn't Sunstreaker or that four optic mech. Whoever it was, they were red. Spinning round, he just saw someone vanish round the corner, near the energon dispenser.  
  
"I'll call you back," he whispered, hanging up abruptly.  
  
Carefully treading towards the place where he saw the movement, Jazz tried to figure out who it could be. Was it a die hard fan, breaking and entering? A maid? A butler? Sunstreaker never mentioned anything about servants. A thief? A rival model? Jazz bit his lip as the countless possibilities ran through his head. He didn't have his swords with him, for they were still getting processed back at the Towers border control, so hand to hand combat was his option option.   
  
As he got closer, he heard the sound of muffled music. A mini radio perhaps? Audio phones maybe? Peering round the corner, he saw someone was behind the door of the open energon storage. He couldn't see who, but someone was in there, rummaging through the snacks and drinks. He could see the feet under the open door, but that was all.  
  
He edged a little closer, reaching for the door. Plan was simple; pull it open, and threaten whoever was behind it.   
  
Stepping a little closer, he slowly took hold of the door.   
  
He took a deep vent.  
  
Hopefully this was nothing.  
  
It was obviously something, but he didn't know what.  
  
He formed a fist with his free hand.  
  
Exhaling quietly, he counted down from three.  
  
3  
  
2  
  
1  
  
Pulling the door open as fast as he could, and raising his free hand into a fist, he readied himself for whatever was behind the door.   
  
What he saw surprised him a little.  
  
Standing up from a bent position, a young mech in red armour stared at him with a dumbfounded expression. A pair of audio phones were wrapped around his spiky helm, an oil cake was wedged between the lips of his pale face, and in each hand was an energon beverage. He appeared surprised, but also looked annoyed, with Jazz.   
  
Jazz found him to be suspicious, for the stranger was rough and untidy looking, which would arouse any suspicion given the city they were in. He obviously didn't belong here, but what was he doing here in the first place?  
  
Removing the audio phones from his helm, with the fingers of his occupied hands, as well as grabbing the snack from his mouth, the red mech demanded, "who the frag are you?"  
  
"I could ask you the same thing," snapped Jazz, "who are you, and what are you doing here?"  
  
"I live here," spat the red mech angrily.  
  
At first, Jazz was unsure how to answer that, but he was very certain that this little punk did not live here. His appearance was untidy, his accent was off, and he even reeked of street life. "This is the property of the Mortal Sol," declared Jazz, "so explain to me, what a lil' punk aft brat like you is doing here?"  
  
"Frag you, pal," growled the red mech, "you're the trespasser here!"  
  
"I work here, kid," responded Jazz, his temper starting to rise.  
  
"As if anyone would hire some backwater goon, like you," hissed the red mech.  
  
Jazz was about to grab him, when Sunstreaker finally returned. "Sorry about that, I-" he paused when he spotted Jazz with the red mech. "Oh! I see you met my brother."  
  
"Brother?" repeated Jazz, looking back at the red mech, "him?"  
  
Sunstreaker trotted over, until he stood in between the two mechs. "Jazz, this is my twin brother, Sideswipe. Sideswipe, this is my new bodyguard, Jazz."  
  
Twins? Sunstreaker had a twin? He hadn't been informed about that, nor was that information common knowledge, as far as he was concerned. He looked back and forth between the two brothers, trying to find the family resemblance. They were the same build, their faces a little similar, and their armour looked the same in some places, but whilst Sunstreaker was bright and charming to look at, this Sideswipe looked like someone who walked off the street. The only thing about them that looked identical were their optics, both a beautiful shade of blue with dark sharp brows. It was still unbelievable that the famous Mortal Sol had a twin, especially one like this little punk.  
  
"I believe you owe me an apology," sneered the red mech.  
  
"Did something happen?" asked Sunstreaker, appearing concerned.  
  
"This slagger thought I was an intruder," snapped the red mech, pointing a free finger at Jazz.  
  
"Oh you can't blame him for that Sideswipe," chuckled Sunstreaker, "I mean, you are a little rough looking, compared to me, plus I forgot to mention to him that you lived here. He was just doing his job."  
  
That seemed to have angered the red mech, for he shoved his audio phones back on in a huff, and stormed off, pushing past Jazz in anger.  
  
"Sorry about that," sighed Sunstreaker, "Despite the fact that we are both twins, we aren't that similar to each other, mostly in manners."  
  
"Do I have to bodyguard him too?" asked Jazz, hoping he didn't have to.  
  
"Oh no, no," replied the model, "just me."  
  
Soon after that troublesome ordeal, Jazz sat down with Sunstreaker to discuss his new role as the Mortal Sol's bodyguard. After listening to the lengthy explanation, Jazz was quite surprised how easy and laid back his job was. Whilst Sunstreaker was in the Pulchritudo INC tower, he did not require a bodyguard. The only time Jazz was needed, was if Sunstreaker were to leave the tower, and he only ever had to leave the tower when he had to promote a foreign product, or make a guest appearance at some event. Jazz could do whatever he wanted till he was needed, and when he was needed, he had to drop everything and dash to Sunstreaker's side. That and as long as he never broke his contract agreement, everything else was just a drive down the road.  
  
It seemed unusual, as Jazz believed that a bodyguard was required to guard their client no matter what, no matter where. Yet he was only needed when Sunstreaker left the safety of his home tower, and that was it. What was the actual point of his presence? Why was he needed at all? He shouldn't complain, after all this was helping him with his true goal, the whole reason he came to the Towers in the first place.  
  
"The last little thing you need to do, is meet with the CEO of Pulchritudo INC," said Sunstreaker, finishing off his tea. "We will meet with him tomorrow, just before he takes brunch with the CEO of the Ludicrous company. He's always on a better mood when talking with her, so we timed that right."  
  
"Why must I meet with him?" asked Jazz, slightly confused with that part.  
  
"Well, he needs to make certain I hired the right mech for the job," explained Sunstreaker, setting his cup down. "He does it with everyone else, so don't be too concerned about it. Now, is there anything else?"  
  
"There is actually," replied Jazz, "do you have maids? Butlers? Another sibling I should be aware of?"  
  
Thinking to himself for a moment, Sunstreaker responded with an endless list of his other visitors. "Well you already met Bob, and Sideswipe. Let's see... the cleaners come in the morning, and they have their own passes, I have the metal therapy bots come in after that, and then Quadocular comes to give me my updated schedule, next is the mechs who bring me breakfast, and depending what day it is I get Bob's pamper service, there's also the photographer, and the seamstress with her assistants, along with Glyph, who brings the secondary schedule, and right after her-"  
  
"Whoa, wait," stuttered Jazz, "you let all these bots into your home?"  
  
Sunstreaker laughed a little, finding Jazz's shocked face to be amusing. "Please rest your concerns, for they all undergo severe security before entering my estate. They wouldn't dare let some stranger walk in."  
  
"So they all enter through the front door," questioned Jazz, "or is there another entrance?"  
  
"Ah yes, most of them enter via the servant entrance," chuckled Sunstreaker, "for the record, it was always called that. It's actually near your room, just in case. Only those loyal to the company come through the front door, whilst the others come through the back." Sunstreaker stood up, yawning a little. "Is there anything else?"  
  
Jazz heard all he needed to.  
  
After studying the layout of the property a few times, Jazz was finally allowed to retire for the day. Sunstreaker was kind enough to provide him some energon, but advised him that he would have to purchase his own in the future. It was understandable, and Jazz decided to construct a shopping list of all the supplies he would need. He just hoped his swords would hurry up and arrive, he felt naked without them.  
  
As he walked down a hallway towards his room, a door nearby opened up and out walked the young red mech from earlier, the one named Sideswipe. He appeared deep in thought, and looked like he was in a foul mood as he stormed past Jazz. If Jazz had to guess, he was going out, but where he was going, Jazz had no clue.  
  
"Shouldn't you be in your berth?" asked Jazz, teasing him a little.  
  
"Screw you," hissed Sideswipe, "I'm going to work."  
  
"I guess he doesn't freeload after all," muttered Jazz, continuing on to reach his room. He was going to have to ask Sunstreaker about his brothers schedule, just in case he mistook him for an intruder again.  
  
His room wasn't that far off from Sideswipe's and upon entering, Jazz was pleasantly surprised. It was like his own apartment back home, only much more cleaner and wider. A berth with plush cushions was in one corner, a mini energon dispenser was in another, a door to the en suite, and a large window with a fantastic view, complete with a balcony.  
  
Near his new berth, a large desk was set up, filled with data pads, computer screens, and some funny looking devices. "Is this the security desk?" Jazz examined it further, until his optics landed on a data pad titled, "Celestial Sol Suite: Security Layout." Opening it, Jazz discovered a detailed map of the property, with each room labelled with entry points, potential hazards, and security risks. Clearly the last bodyguard knew how to do his job, though Jazz did wonder what he did that got him fired.  
  
Expanding the data pad open, something fell out and onto the floor. Jazz bent down to pick it up, examining it. It was a smaller data pad, a personal note pad Jazz assumed. Opening it, he found some sort of check list on the first page. The list of names were a bit odd, and all of them hastily written, and the lines that crossed them out appeared forced, almost aggressively. The names that were crossed out were, main entrance, first lobby, second lobby, studio, garden, Sideswipe's room, Pet room, and wardrobe. The next name on the list, that had not been crossed out, was Sunstreaker's room. Along with the check list was a small note, near the bottom of the page, "finding it is top priority. Was informed that it's located here. Must search everywhere."  
  
"Finding what?" pondered Jazz, taking note that the last sentence was highlighted, meaning it must have been important.  
  
The next few pages were filled with dates, timings, and small reminders. Jazz could only assume that the previous bodyguard left this behind. One entry did catch his attention, "celestial suite: 2100: await targets arrival, deliver beverage, await further instructions." What did that all mean? Beverage? Like a drink or something? Was Sunstreaker the target?  
  
"Most likely the old bodyguard also played butler, or somethin' like that," muttered Jazz, dumping the small pad on the desk.  
  
Slumping into his berth, Jazz grunted at how soft it was, before reaching for all the guides and information data pads. It was his first day after all, and Jazz needed to study up on his new home. He needed to fit in perfectly, if he was going to find out who murdered his friend.


	2. Chapter 2

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, stalking

\----------------------------------

Waiting outside a large set of doors, Jazz leaned against a nearby wall as he waited to meet with the CEO of Pulchritudo INC. Sunstreaker was sitting nearby upon a soft chair, with little Glyph standing next to him, reading his schedule for the day. Jazz could only wish that time would hurry on, as he wanted to get out of here and meet up with a friend. He didn't have a time limit or anything, but he wanted to get started on what he came here for.

He still got the odd look or two, and he had been advised to make himself presentable to the public. Jazz, however, had no intention of covering himself in ridiculous paint and ornaments for anyone. Sunstreaker suggested an exquisite body wax, but Jazz couldn't stand the stuff, it made him feel sick and he didn't like the sensation of it on his armour. Maybe a little buff would please them, a simple but effective body buff. As long as he looked shiny, who gave a damn?

Glyph approached Jazz, after finishing up with Sunstreaker. "So Jazz, how are you finding life in the Towers so far?" she asked.

"It's interesting," answered Jazz, "very unique from the rest of Cybertron."

"It is, isn't it?" agreed Glyph, "so did you settle in alright? I hope the Mortal Sol's accommodation didn't blow you away." She giggled a little, almost as if she found the whole topic amusing.

"It was a nice pad, and I got a nice room," replied Jazz, "though I almost screwed up before my first day began, when I almost threw out his twin brother."

The small femme suddenly ceased giggling, and she stared up at Jazz, with a face full of disgust. "So you met... him... did you?" The way she uttered the word "him" was off putting. She poured a lot of hatred into that single word.

"You talkin' about Sideswipe?" confirmed Jazz.

Glyph made an odd sound before explaining. "I can't believe the twin brother of the Mortal Sol is such a rude, vile, putrid brat! The Mortal Sol works so very hard, works such long hours, pushing himself to be the best, and he lets that horrid mech stay with him? I would not have blamed you for throwing him out, he deserves to be thrown off the tallest tower." 

Jazz stared down at her, completely in shock. "That was a bit... harsh."

"Harsh?" gasped Glyph, "I was being kind with my words, for no one with a faint spark should hear what I have to say about him! That horrid spawn of Unicron." She was a little loud, and upon realising this she coughed in embarrassment, glancing over to check if she had upset Sunstreaker. "I'm sorry for acting abnormally," she sighed, returning her attention to Jazz, "but that Sideswipe is a horrid mech, and you need to keep an optic on him."

"Why would I need to do that?" asked Jazz.

"I'm certain the CEO is planning on telling you," explained Glyph looking over to make certain Sunstreaker wasn't listening, "but to make a long tale short; Sideswipe has assaulted the Mortal Sol before."

Assaulted? Sideswipe attacked his own brother? "He tried to hurt the Mortal Sol?"

"Not only that, but he has been charged with vandalism, theft, and many other crimes," continued Glyph, now speaking like she was enjoying this topic. "I don't know why the Mortal Sol puts up with him. I know they're brothers, but still. If it were me, I'd send him to the nearest correction facility for life! Of course, I shouldn't judge what the Mortal Sol does with his own sibling, but I just wish he'd punish him or something. "

Jazz was starting to get annoyed with the gossip Glyph was feeding him, and he attempted to block out her voice. He did take one thing away from the conversation, and that was Sideswipe being violent to his own brother. The little punk did seem the aggressive type, and he didn't seem to show any love towards his brother during their first meeting. Sunstreaker didn't express any fear being around his brother either. Was this just idle gossip, or was there something more to it?

Before he could dwell on it any further, the large doors opened at long last, and a tall femme walked out. "His Highness will see you now," she announced.

Sunstreaker jumped up, beckoning Jazz to follow. They walked through the doors and entered a very large office. The floor was made of a alien stone, the walls were carved with patterns that took eons to make, the art decorating the room was both bizarre but beautiful, and it had one of the largest window Jazz had ever seen. 

Near the window was a large desk, made out of an odd material Jazz had never seen before, and sitting before it was a large mech. He reeked of grease, and Jazz was fairly certain that if he shook hands with him, he'd get a handful of it. His colour scheme was weird, dark green with bright yellow hints. He was quite a bulky mech, possibly one too many engex treats. His helm design was bizarre too, looking a little like Sunstreaker's but a bit more greasy and over done. For someone who ran a business based on looks, he didn't seem to have a grasp on it himself.

The greasy mech rose from where he sat, spreading his arms open in a welcoming gesture. "It is lovely to see you grace my office, Mortal Sol," he said, showing off his platinum grin.

"Lovely to see you too," replied Sunstreaker, sitting in another expensive looking plush chair.

The greasy mech then turned his attention to Jazz. "So this is your new bodyguard guard?" He offered a hand to Jazz, "welcome to Pulchritudo INC. I am the CEO, Platinum."

Jazz shook the outstretched hand, and his previous concerns came true. "Lovely place you got here," he said, wanting to let go of that hand.

"Yes it is," agreed Platinum, letting go of Jazz's hand. "Everything in this room was made from an alien material. The floor is organic stone from a volcanic planet in the Omega 5 system, the drapes were crafted from the material of an organic creature from Gamma 2, and this desk-" he ran his hands along it, adoring it with his optics "-was crafted from giant organic plants from Quartz 7, an entire planet covered with them."

"You sure do love your organics," chortled Jazz, discreetly wiping his hands, "they must have been really expensive."

"They're unique to Cybertron, and I adore unique things," gloated Platinum, "I also adore beautiful things, and I believed that all of Cybertron should be blessed with beauty." Platinum reached for a box, filled with cygars. "We give the public what they want, and they want to see beautiful bots on their products, on their media screens, on everything they own." Popping the cygar in his shiny mouth, Platinum leaned back into his chair. "Do you think he's beautiful, Jazz?"

Jazz looked over at Sunstreaker, who smiled back at him. "He's an optic catcher," answered Jazz, "and he's one of your best models. You're lucky to have him in your company."

Sunstreaker seemed to appreciate that comment, but his boss didn't seem to like the answer. "You didn't answer the question," said Platinum, giving Jazz a funny look. "Don't you desire him? Don't you want to reach out and grab him? Hold him? Touch him all over? Make him yours and yours alone?"

"Excuse me?" responded a stunned Jazz. 

Platinum grinned again. "He's one of my most beautiful bots in the business, and he has a lot of fans. A lot of fans. Dangerous fans. All of them want to have him." Platinum sat up, leaning upon his desk. "You are aware of our no touch policy?"

Jazz nodded. "I am aware that I'm not allowed to make contact with the Mortal Sol," he said.

"Yes," chuckled Platinum, "but to let me explain it in more depth. You see no one is allowed to touch any of our models. Not you, not me, not anyone. We can't risk having our models dented or dirtied, especially from not so beautiful bots. Touching one is a criminal offence here in the Towers, and the last one who dared to try and touch one of my models, was thrown into a rusty cell for the rest of his days." He leaned in closer to Jazz. "Do you understand?"

Jazz didn't flinch as Platinum leaned in his face. "Even if he's in danger? I can't pull him out of the way?"

"Your job is to prevent him from getting into those situations in the first place," continued Platinum, "surely you can protect him without making any contact with him?"

That actually made his job sound harder. How could he protect Sunstreaker if he couldn't even touch him? Still he had to do it, he needed to be here for his true purpose. "I can do it," he answered with confidence.

Platinum just continued to give him that smug smile, as he pulled out a file from his strange desk. "We did a check on you, Jazz of Tygar Pax," he said, opening the file before him, "graduated from a military school during your twelfth cycle, came out top of your class in the defence academy, and... oh my, you seem to be an expert at swordplay."

Jazz didn't like that little poke at his ego. "I prefer the term sword fightin', cause only sparklings and idiots lookin' to get chopped play with swords," he responded coolly.

Platinum merely stared back at him with those small scarlet optics of his, silently acknowledging the comeback. "So where are your swords, Jazz?"

Oh, he was going to be like this, was he? Jazz remained strong as he answered, "They're currently still goin' through customs. Can't blame 'em for being so cautious, they are forged from titanium." 

The greasy mech chuckled calmly, finding this whole thing amusing. "So you'll be using these swords to protect the Mortal Sol?"

"With me around, the swords would be a last resort," answered Jazz, getting annoyed but hiding his frustration, "look, if you doubt me and fear that I can't protect your Mortal Sol, then I would be happy to demonstrate how capable I really am."

The room was silent for a moment, until Platinum began to chuckle, and then he began to laugh. Sunstreaker calmly rolled his optics whilst shaking his head, as his boss continued to laugh and laugh. "You are a determined one, aren't you?" said Platinum, after ceasing his laughing. "Yes, I think the Mortal Sol would benefit with you protecting him."

Jazz could not believe that this whole thing was nothing more but a ridiculous test. Didn't his paperwork help convince them? Whatever, it seemed the CEO was giving him his blessing to be the bodyguard for the Mortal Sol. 

"I take you are pleased with my choice?" asked Sunstreaker, speaking at last.

"As long as he does his job, and obeys his contract, I am satisfied," replied CEO, "you have chosen well, Mortal Sol." Sunstreaker smiled with delight. "Now I just need to talk to him privately for a moment, would you mind leaving us alone, Mortal Sol?"

Now Jazz was getting angry. What else did this greasy bloated bolt head want with him? Sunstreaker merely acknowledged the CEO's command, and excused himself. Once he was out the door, Platinum turned his attention back to Jazz, with a serious look upon his face. Jazz could only guess what he wanted to talk about with him.

"Now Jazz, there is a matter regarding the Mortal Sol, you should be aware about," explained Platinum, pulling out another file and dumping it before Jazz. "This little subject upsets him, and the last thing I want for him is to get stress lines all over his pretty face."

Reaching for the file, Jazz opened it and the first thing he saw was a familiar face. Sunstreaker's twin brother, Sideswipe. The whole file was about him, and it wasn't good. His mug shot was displayed on the front of the file, and a long list of his atrocities were displayed for him to read. This file was more like one would find at an Enforcer station.

"As you are already aware," continued Platinum, "the Mortal Sol has a brother, who lives with him. Unfortunately, young Sideswipe was not as blessed as the Mortal Sol, in both appearance and personality. Whilst here, he has committed a number of anti social activities. Vandalism to company property, uncouth behaviour to other models, and he even struck his own brother! Unfortunately, the Mortal Sol was not the only one he attacked. He's a problem child, as you can see."

Looking through the the file, Jazz could see everything that Sideswipe had done. He destroyed a camera worth over a thousand shanix, kicked over an expensive imported organic plant in the lobby, shouted offensive words to a number of models, and it did indeed state, in bold letters, that he had attacked his brother, and apparently was responsible for injuring some celebrity. He knew the kid was rude and all, but seeing all this made Jazz wonder why Sunstreaker put up with him at all.

"So he attacked the Mortal Sol, right?" confirmed Jazz, "I thought you said touching a model was a criminal offence?"

"It is," replied Platinum, "and we were about to press charges against him, and hand him over to the authorities, but the Mortal Sol was able to find a way to keep him out of prison."

"Like what?" asked Jazz. Platinum pointed at the file, a particular page catching Jazz's attention. Pulling it out, Jazz found himself looking at a contract, or rather the copy of a contract. It was long, and the words were very small. Jazz had no desire to read it, so he asked, "what exactly did he sign?" 

"Nothing special," replied Platinum, "just an agreement that he is now the property of the Mortal Sol."

That didn't sound too bad, but Jazz guessed there was more to it. What did it mean the Sideswipe was now Sunstreaker's property? What exactly did that imply? Sideswipe didn't look like a slave, and he seemed to have free reign around the property, heck he even had a job. This was indeed a bizarre punishment he didn't fully understand. Maybe he had restrictions or something like that? Sunstreaker never mentioned anything about his brother having restrictions though.

"We just want you to keep an optic on him, when he's around the Mortal Sol," explained Platinum, taking the file back, and stuffing it back in his odd desk. "We don't want another incident. He may be bound by the contract, but he has an unpredictable personality. We did advise the Mortal Sol that if something like this happens again, we will have to take drastic action. The last thing we want is for his face to be ruined again."

So Sunstreaker did this to protect Sideswipe? "I guess he was lookin' out for his brother," pondered Jazz aloud.

"Hardly," scoffed Platinum, "the Mortal Sol did this to stop the little brat from embarrassing him, and I believe he did this to keep him under control, I mean, why else would he? He's a burden on the Mortal Sol, but our fair model has stated that as the oldest of the pair, it's his responsibility to take charge of him. Such an inspiration he is."

In other words, this contract that Sideswipe signed was some form of a leash, and Sunstreaker was holding the other end. Jazz just had to make certain the little punk didn't bite the one holding the leash.

"Now that is taken care of, you may go," stated Platinum, waving a dismissing hand at Jazz. "Also please do something about your paint job, you look atrocious. Can't have the Mortal Sol walking around with someone looking so shabby."

Jazz would have punched him right there and now, but instead he forced a smile on and responded with, "I'll look into it."

As Jazz got up to leave, a comm unit upon Platinum's desk went off. Waiting for Jazz to exit his office, Platinum picked it up, and a voice he dreaded greeted him. 

"I take it you met him?" asked the voice.

"I did," replied Platinum, "and I doubt he'll be willing to cooperate like the last one."

"We don't need anyone for that task anymore," replied the voice.

Platinum appeared alarmed. "B-but how will we continue? Are we just stopping? We were making so much shanix! How can we get-"

"I'm taking care of it," calmly replied the voice, "you'll see, we will continue with this little side business, until the planned date. You'll get your shanix, so don't fret."

Platinum wiped his brow, both out of his nerves acting up and his relief. "I'll arrange the bookings then. When shall I make the first one?"

"A week from now," instructed the voice, "now if you'll excuse me, I have a mech to track down. Oh, and make sure that the Mortal Sol does a good job as the spokesperson for Beauty Immortal at next weeks event. I want everyone begging to be a part of it."

Platinum wheezed a little. "I think he's on to us about that."

"So? What can he do? Still, better not underestimate him... you know what he's like."

And with that, the caller hanged up, leaving Platinum alone in his organic office, coolant dripping down his greasy face out of fear.

\-----------------------------------------

Walking next to Sunstreaker in a huff, Jazz tried to keep himself composed around his important client. At least it went well, and it looked like he was going to be working here for a while. He also received a private message, asking him to come to the Gears Grease Burger joint at the bottom border this afternoon. Jazz knew who sent it and what was about, so he could only hope Sunstreaker didn't require him for the rest of the day.

"You know, Platinum isn't his real name."

Jazz looked up, realising he was begin talked to. "Sorry, what?"

"The CEO, Platinum. It's not his real name," repeated Sunstreaker.

"I figured," snorted Jazz, "who'd name anyone after some metal, when the only part of him made of the stuff is in his mouth?"

Sunstreaker laughed. "The truth is, he's actually planning on having his whole frame made out of platinum." He stopped near a vending machine, wanting a quick beverage before leaving the floor. "He wants platinum armour, platinum spark casing, and I even heard he wanted to have a platinum glossa!" He selected an Engex sweet drink, pulling the ring to open it up, a hiss following. "I think he'd look silly, if I'm perfectly honest."

A whole body made of platinum? That sounded really expensive, especially with someone with a body that big. The metal itself was mined on Luna-2 and even though the moon was full of it, it could take forever to locate a hotspot. It was easier to mine for it on alien worlds, but it then had to go through decontamination and that could take a century for more. Not only that, but the metal was used by the church of Primus and the Primes in their holy occasions, and ever since they classed it as a holy metal, the stuff just got even more expensive. Getting furniture made of alien organic material was cheaper than getting a handful of it. 

"At least he's got shiny teeth," chuckled Jazz.

Sunstreaker downed his drink, gasping as he swallowed the last drop. "I don't know how he afforded it, when the price of platinum just went by 200% a month ago." Crunching the can, he tossed it in the nearby bin. "We were all surprised when we saw his new teeth. All that must have cost him over five million per tooth."

Per tooth!? Jazz could only whistle in response. "He must get quite the pay check."

"He gets a standard 1.5 million shanix a month, same as any other CEO of any other major company," explained Sunstreaker, continuing to walk down the crimson hallway. "So unless he's been doing some extra work on the side, I have no idea how he paid for them."

Jazz was a little impressed. Sunstreaker seemed quite knowledgeable about certain things. Up until now, he just assumed the model was nothing more than a pretty face. "So what's his real name?" he asked.

"I couldn't tell you," confessed Sunstreaker, "his name was Platinum when I started working here. All I know is that it's not his real name, and everyone else either doesn't know or refuses to share." As they entered the elevator, the model faced Jazz and said, "please don't tell anyone what I just drank. They are really funny about what I should and shouldn't drink."

"Sure," responded Jazz, "our lil' secret." Sunstreaker smiled as the lift descended, waiting in silence until they reached the studio floor. Jazz thought this was the perfect opportunity to ask, "will you be needin' my services this afternoon?" 

Sunstreaker shook his head. "I'll be in the studio all day, and I'm not planning on going out. Just keep your pager on when you leave."

"Of course," said Jazz, very pleased how well that went.

When they finally reached their destination, the elevator's doors slid open to reveal Quadocular and Glyph, waiting for their model. Sunstreaker bid Jazz farewell as he stepped out, leaving with his manager to continue his work.

Glyph dashed up to Jazz with something to say. "We just had customs on the comm. Your weapons have been processed, and will be delivered to the Mortal Sol's estate this evening."

Jazz felt even better upon hearing this news, smiling with glee as he pushed the lift's button to reach his next destination.

In order for Jazz to reach his desired meeting point, he had to go through the Towers bottom border. Out of all the cities upon Cybertron, the Towers had a unique border system. Whilst other cities had their borders surrounding their outskirts, the Towers had an additional border located at the base of the city. The border existed between the hundredth floor of every tower, meaning that every floor above level one hundred was the glorious Towers city, and below this same level was a suburb city, known as the Base. 

The Base had many names, such as the Towers Pit, or the Towers Slums, though it didn't really appear to be a rundown area. Down there it was like any other city on Cybertron, only no natural light could reach it. It was an average little city that had everything a city needed, it just happened to be right under the most famous city on the whole planet. Bots would flock here, thinking it was a gateway to get into the wondrous city above them, only to find it was a lot harder to get in from down here.

Jazz had to leave the elevator he traveled down in, go through a security gate, and then enter another elevator that took him down where he needed to go. He found it refreshing to be among the average bot, and the smell of the place brought about nostalgia memories. Leaving the elevator, he found himself in a bustling street, filled with bots going about their business, street vendors selling their wares, and tour groups.

Making his way through the crowds, he spotted the chain restaurant he was supposed to be meeting someone at. Entering the establishment, Jazz was greeted with that wonderful scent of grease burgers and oil cakes. The clinking of cheap cutlery, the chatter of ordinary bots, and the smell of that awful but good food made Jazz feel at home. Looking around the packed restaurant, he spotted a table with someone sitting upon it, hiding behind a media pad. He smirked, knowing full well who it was.

Sliding into the opposite chair, he leaned upon the table, staring at the large media pad that blocked his view of its reader. "Miss me?"

Almost upon saying those words, the media pad dropped to reveal a mech with a stern expression and a pair if ice cold optics. "You're late," hissed the mech.

Jazz casually shrugged. "Aw, and I was startin' to think that the great Prowl was indeed capable of expressin' basic emotion."

The mech, named Prowl, just glared at Jazz, as he neatly folded the pad he was reading. "I take it that everything is going according to plan? No issues?"

"They did do a back round check on me, but they didn't find squat, of course," answered Jazz, grinning in amusement.

"If I wanted them to know who you were Jazz, I would have allowed it," huffed Prowl, "unless I authorise it, you do not exist."

A waitress came by their table, wearing cheap perfume and a fake smile. "What can I ge'cha fellas?" she asked.

"The greasiest grease burger you have," requested Jazz.

"Filtered energon tea," ordered Prowl. Taking their orders, she trotted off. "And hold the damn oil this time," barked Prowl.

Jazz sighed as he relaxed on his seat. "You were not kidding Prowl," he muttered, "those Tower bots are a pain in the rear end. Endless contracts, advertisin' horrible merchandise, paint jobs that hurt my optics, and their attitude in general."

"I did warn you," responded Prowl bluntly, "they make their lives complicated to give them more meaning. It makes them feel that they are accomplishing something, when in fact they are just wasting their time, as well as the time of others." 

"And that CEO of Pulchritudo INC? He's a right piece of work," ranted Jazz, "I can smell the corruption all over that greasy frame of his."

"Greaseload?"

"Aw, no thanks," chuckled Jazz, "I just ordered."

"I'm talking about the CEO, idiot," snapped Prowl.

It took a few seconds for Jazz to realise what Prowl was on about. "Wait... You were talkin' about Platinum... that's his real name?"

"Please, you didn't think anyone would be named after some metal in this day and age, did you?" sighed Prowl.

Jazz wanted to retort to that, but kept quiet. 

"Anyway, I'm keeping my optic on that one," continued Prowl, "he's put in an order to have his helm forged out of platinum. He's been receiving funds from outside sources, but as to who and why, I'm unsure. Give me a few weeks, maybe less, and I'll have some answers."

Their order arrived in due time, and as Prowl stirred and re filtered his tea, Jazz took a big bite out of his burger, the grease and oils dripping all over his hands. "So," he said, between mouthfuls of his meal, "you wanted to share somethin' with me?"

Prowl nodded and slid a small data card across the table to Jazz. "Although his personal data pad was destroyed, we were able to recover some of the data from it. All that we salvaged is in here."

Jazz wiped his hands before picking it up. "Anythin' useful?" he queried.

"Timings with small details, and a couple of notes that don't make sense," sighed Prowl, sipping his tea, "hopefully they'll make sense to you, since you're the one up there."

"I'll look at it later," promised Jazz, tucking it away, "anythin' else?"

"Yes," replied Prowl, "I've stationed myself down here as the temporary captain of the Base Enforcer unit. The previous captain took a... vacation." He took another sip of his tea. "If you require assistance, I'm not that far away."

"Aw, you do care," teased Jazz.

"I've also arranged for someone to assist you in the Towers," continued Prowl, "but I must warn you, she is a rookie."

Jazz groaned in disbelief. "A rookie? Really Prowl?"

"Believe it or not, she was recommended by a close friend," explained Prowl, "I'll tell her when it's appropriate to contact you. She's just there to help you access the Towers enforcer records, and their facilities if you need them. Plus I doubt anyone would suspect anything out of the ordinary, when you speak with her." Placing his cup down, he then turned to Jazz. "Now is there anything you want to share?"

Jazz nodded, wiping his lips before starting. "Out of curiosity, were you aware the Mortal Sol has a twin brother?"

"Sideswipe?" replied Prowl, "yes, they try to keep him on a low profile up there. I've read the list of his crimes, and I'm surprised he's not in jail yet. I guess being related to a high profile model has its perks." He sat up a little, his wings twitching a bit. "Why ask anyway? What did you need to know about him?"

"They want me to watch him too," muttered Jazz, "I only met him once, but he has a mean streak, and the last thing I need is for him to get in my way."

"If he gets in your way, get him out of the way," ordered Prowl, "it's that simple." Prowl took another sip of his tea, and sighed. "Primus, this is awful."

Jazz smiled a little, the moment bringing forth a distant memory he'd almost forgotten. "Best energon tea in the world wouldn't even make you smile." Upon hearing this, Prowl placed his cup down down and closed his optics, his frame tensing a little. Jazz winced, realising he went too far. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's fine," said Prowl, picking his cup back up, "I'm just used to hearing him say it. Nothing personal, you just don't have the right tone."

The mood grew depressing, and Jazz admitted that saying those words made him feel sad, rather than happy. Jazz leaned over and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "Prowl, I will find the one responsible for this. I promise."

"I think you meant, we both will," retorted Prowl, a hint of sass in his stoic voice.

"Y'know what I meant," chuckled Jazz.

Although he didn't smile, Jazz could tell that Prowl was grateful. "Anyway," coughed Prowl, wanting to get rid of the awkward atmosphere, "I think you're getting rusty."

"Come again?" asked a confused Jazz, removing his hand.

Prowl cocked his head towards the window. "That green mech has been following you ever since you left the Towers."

Jazz didn't turn his head, but cautiously peered out the window. In the distance, leaning against a low wall with his back to them, a large dark green mech stood amongst the crowds. He was too far off to get a decent description, but it was obvious that he wasn't standing there to enjoy the view.

"Pickin' up any frequencies?" asked Jazz, checking for any other stalkers.

"They're faint, but someone is talking to him," replied Prowl, adjusting his audio feed, "its a scrambled one... only one person talking... hold it... Someone just informed him that we are aware of his presence."

Almost upon say that, the green mech suddenly walked off. Jazz jumped up. "I'll call ya later, keep me updated," he said, before dashing out the restaurant.

Jazz ran through the crowds, pushing past anyone that got in his way. He kept his optics locked on the green mech, who quickly turned a corner. He must have been aware that Jazz was now chasing after him. Jazz followed as fast as he could, a number of questions running through his head. Who was this guy, who did he work for, and why was he following him? This was his second day in the Towers, and already he was getting stalked by a potential bad guy.

Rounding the corner, Jazz cursed out loud when he could no longer see him. He scanned the crowds but he saw no sigh of the green mech. He activated his comm unit to report to Prowl. "Lost him," he growled.

"Whoever that was, he's a pro," responded Prowl, "I've just hacked the local security cameras, and he's using a program that makes him appear invisible on the video feed."

"Scrap," cursed Jazz.

"Get back to the Towers," ordered Prowl, "I'll call you if we need to meet up again. Keep your optics open on this one Jazz, the Towers may be a pretty city, but it's just as corrupted as any other." 

Jazz took heed of Prowl's warning. Something was going on in the tall city, and he had a good feeling it had something to do with why he came here.

\-----------------------------------------

The elevator ride back the Mortal Sol's estate was a long and tiresome one. It did, however, provide Jazz with some time to think. He had been followed by someone, but as to who it was and who they were working for, he had no clue. He could only assume that it was someone from the company, wanting to keep an optic on him, or maybe Sunstreaker sent someone to spy on him for unknown reasons. For all he knew, it could be a whole other reason.

Thank Primus that Prowl was staying close by, for if there was one mech Jazz could depend on for acquiring information and for setting up a decent plan of attack, it was the infamous tactician and operations director of the Senate Secret Service. Prowl was a professional, and he could find out anything about any bot. It was almost scary how good he was, so Jazz was thankful that someone like him was on the right side.

Nearing the estate, Jazz was actually looking forward to seeing his swords. It took customs long enough to process them, they had their reasons of course, but it was still a hassle. Now that Jazz thought about it, he better check them over, just in case they were tampered with. If someone was trying to keep an optic on him, they might have planted a bug upon his weapons.

Reaching the floor, and passing the security door with ease, now that he had been entered into the system, Jazz entered the lobby of the estate. He looked about until he saw the cases that contained his swords, but that wasn't the only thing he saw.

Standing over his open sword case, Sideswipe was holding one of his dangerous blades, staring at it with curious optics, running his fingers carefully over the sharp edge. He failed to notice Jazz walking in, for he was too caught up in his snooping. Jazz felt something snap inside, for he did not like it when someone else held his swords.

"The hell are you doin' kid!?" he bellowed in rage.

Sideswipe jumped back in surprise, spinning around to face Jazz, and dropping the sword. He looked at Jazz, guilt written all over his face, and possibly trying to come up with a good excuse, after getting caught red handed. "I was just looking," he said innocently.

Jazz marched over, picking the dropped sword up and examined it. Thankfully there were no dents or scratches, but he was still angry. "These are not toys," hissed Jazz, packing it back into the case.

"I know," muttered Sideswipe, folding his arms, "they're titanium blade solar forged swords from Kaon. Can kill a bot without even trying."

That surprised Jazz, and he stared at the red youth. "How'd you know that?" he demanded.

Sideswipe shrugged before answering, "I'm into swords, and I know a few things about them." He shuffled a little, seemly embarrassed about something. "Don't tell Sunstreaker," he begged.

Jazz raised an optic brow. It was impressive that the kid knew a few things about swords, especially the make, but it still did not change the fact that this little punk touched his precious swords. "Stay away from my stuff, understand?" he threatened, giving the kid one of the scariest glares his face could muster.

Sideswipe nodded before walking off. "Cool blades by the way," he said, in a somewhat sad tone of voice.

He noticed this but ignored it for now. Jazz just shooed him away as he locked up his cases, still very angry that someone had touched them without his consent. Jazz grumbled to himself as he carried his cases to his room. He was going to have to put a lock on his door, in order to keep that brat away from his stuff. 

Once inside he checked both of his swords, for signs of tampering. His scans came up with nothing, and they looked as clean as he had left them. Happy with what he saw, he placed them back into their holsters, loving the feeling of having them on his hips again.

"Now then," he sighed, pulling out the data card Prowl gave him earlier, "what do you have to tell me?"

Accessing the data card, he did indeed find a few things that made no sense. They were just words and numbers.

Incident 512

L266

The Heights 2245

Beauty Immortal

Knockout 

Spark Flowers

Brawl's case contents?

Towers Times issue 3098 article 2

Scrolling down the list, he found a readable note at the end.

"This simple case has become a ludicrous mess. He wants to lock him away. I'm already too late. The contract is the key. It must be broken. There is no other way."

Jazz huffed, sitting down upon his berth as he tried to think what that all meant. He wasn't even certain where to start. This only provided him with more questions, than the answers he so desperately wanted. He could only hope that these clues would made make sense the longer he stayed up here. As to what the little note said, it felt more like a riddle then a clue.

Looking at his empty sword cases, Jazz decided to store them away. Looking around his room, he concluded that the best spot would be under his berth. Kneeling down to slide them under, he spotted something under his very berth. Whatever it was, it was really big. Pulling it out, Jazz found himself staring at a huge metal case. It was locked with good quality locks, and very sturdy. It even had a faint smell of some sweet perfume, that was familiar. 

"Guess the last bodyguard forgot this," mused Jazz, pulling it out completely, and shoving his sword cases in its place.

He looked at the sturdy case, wondering what on Cybertron would anyone want with a case that big.


	3. Chapter 3

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, arguing

\----------------------------------

Jazz finally received his first task as the Mortal Sol's appointed bodyguard, and it was to escort him to the Heavens Plaza, where Sunstreaker was going to promote a new spa or something. The whole plaza was packed, so Jazz remained alert, pushing away bots who dared got close to the model he was protecting. Sunstreaker would wave, smiling that sweet smile of his, and would stop every now and then to pose for the camera. Jazz would just give his signature glare of death, scaring off some of the bots, and even silently threatening a few who overstepped their boundary.

Once behind the safety of the crowd guard, Sunstreaker assumed his position near the entrance of the new spa, with the staff and manger close by. Jazz remained vigilant as Sunstreaker delivered a speech, all about how everyone should be beautiful, and that this spa was the first step to achieving that goal. Jazz merely kept his attention on the crowd, keeping an optic open for anyone or anything that threatened Sunstreaker's safety.

When Sunstreaker finally officially opened the spa, he and a group of bots, with reserved tickets entered. Jazz stuck close to him, doing a good job so far. 

"They could have gone for a lighter colour in here," muttered Sunstreaker, not approving of the blue colour surrounding them. "Maybe something like pink or white, something a bit brighter."

"What about yellow?" suggested Jazz.

"Please, the last thing I need is to be surrounded by my own colour scheme," scoffed Sunstreaker, inspecting the spa the further they walked in. "Maybe a brighter blue, or something."

They entered a VIP area, where models and their bodyguards flocked to get away from the ordinary crowd. It was a large circular room, and it had a huge fountain in the middle, made of crystal. There were sun berths stationed all around, where the models would relax and sip expensive energon from tall glasses. An area had been reserved for Sunstreaker, complete with a sun berth, a mini bar, and a personal maid. 

As Sunstreaker settled down onto the berth, a business mech suddenly appeared, holding a form of some sort. Jazz watched as Sunstreaker, the maid, and the very business mech signed it. Once they finished passing it around, the maid held up her hands, Jazz noticing her hands were made out of a strange material. She then leaned over Sunstreaker, preparing to touch him.

"Woah, waitaminute!" barked Jazz, stopping her before she make contact.

"It's alright Jazz," chuckled Sunstreaker, "we signed a waiver."

"A waiver?" Jazz was confused, for he was certain touching models was a big no up in the Towers.

"She, like many others, are trained and authorised to give me a massage, once they've signed a waiver," explained Sunstreaker, sighing as the maid got to work. "Her hands are made of velvet mesh to prevent scratching, and my good friend here is just observing, to make certain she doesn't do anything she's not supposed to."

That made some sense to Jazz, guessing that at some point, someone was going to touch the super model. "I'm guessing this also applies to make up artists, and medics?" Sunstreaker nodded, groaning in delight as the maid did her work. "What about me? Can't I just sign a waiver or somethin' like that?"

Sunstreaker shook his head. "You were hired to be the brute who keeps the trouble away," he stated, "brutes aren't gentle and careful like the spa staff or my medics."

Fair enough, but did he really have to call him a brute?

Time passed, and Jazz continued to stand by as Sunstreaker sipped an energon cocktail, whilst going through some documents. The models around Sunstreaker would stare at him in envy, and others would stare in admiration. Some non models would just stare at him with desire in their optics. Jazz kept an optic on all of them, not wanting his first day to go wrong.

His luck wasn't that good it seemed, for that red faced model with the blue frame approached, looking like he wanted to make trouble. Another mech walked next to him, possibly his manager, and a large mech who had to be the bodyguard. They stood before Sunstreaker, who ignored their presence.

"Can't believe you actually opened this joke of a spa," scoffed the red faced model, "this is a cheap knock off of the Cosmic Coast spa chain, the one I sponsor."

Sunstreaker glared up at him. "If you don't like it Tracks, go back to your precious Cosmic Coast spa," he huffed.

"I don't think anyone likes it the moment," continued Tracks, smirking with delight, "the catering service is running late."

That made Sunstreaker sit up, and he looked around. Jazz noticed it too, everyone was waiting for their complimentary meal. Sunstreaker then turned his attention to his maid, who bowed apologetically. "I'm sorry sir," she whimpered, "we ordered the meals from a nearby five star restaurant, but they're running late for some reason."

"I don't want an excuse," snapped Sunstreaker, "give your guests a free bottle of your finest energon wine as an apology, and hurry up with their meals!"

The distressed maid bowed again and ran off, but Tracks continued with his insults. "It doesn't surprise me that a spa you opened starts off so poorly," he sneered, "the reviews for this place are going to be awful."

Sunstreaker rolled his optics, the taunting clearly not bothering him. "Tracks, if you've got nothing better to do than throw petty insults at me, you obviously must be struggling with your ratings at the moment. Now go bother someone else, I'm working."

That got the blue model angry, and he turned his attention on Jazz. "Is this ghastly brute your bodyguard?"

"Ghastly?" snapped Jazz, getting annoyed with all this bickering.

That response seemed to have surprised Tracks, and his own bodyguard stepped forward. "Keep your trap shut when he's talking to you, pal," growled to bodyguard.

"I'll talk to whoever I like, buddy," retorted Jazz, taking a threatening step forward.

"Both of you, cease this nonsense!" snapped Sunstreaker, getting a little angry.

Jazz did as he was told, cursing his ego for getting the better of him. Tracks bodyguard backed off, mumbling his own curse words. Tracks looked like he was about to leave, but he had one more thing to say to Sunstreaker. "I've heard an interesting story about you, Mortal Sol," he taunted, "about a certain club you attend."

Sunstreaker gave Tracks a confused look. "What are you on about?" 

"Don't play dumb," hissed Tracks, "I got a good source and I was informed you visit a secret club to partake in scandalous activities."

Sunstreaker still appeared confused, but he was also annoyed. "I have no idea what you are talking about Tracks," he spat, "so why don't you keep these stories you've been hearing to yourself, until you get some solid evidence!"

Tracks turned his nose up at Sunstreaker, before stomping off. The yellow model sighed, downing his drink. "Where does he hear such stories?" he muttered.

Jazz could only assume it was just a wild rumour going around, or maybe it was the truth. He wasn't certain, he didn't know Sunstreaker that well, but he appeared genuinely puzzled by the whole thing. He just hoped that nothing else happened that day to make him look bad.

\-----------------------------------------------------

It was late afternoon when they returned to the Mortal Sol's estate, and waiting for Sunstreaker was more work for him to do. Quadocular, Glyph, and another mech were waiting for him. Apparently it had something to do with some scheme that Sunstreaker agreed to do, and they wanted to go over a few things with him.

Jazz wanted to leave and continue with his investigation, and to make sense of the clues he was given, but with no current lead or idea where to start, he stuck around. He sat opposite of the small group, watching them discuss about this new scheme.

"So in a couple of days, you'll be presenting the Beauty Immortal scheme to every model in the city," explained the new mech, shoving some forms in Sunstreaker's face, "we've hired the Omega arena for you to give your speech, which has all been arranged thanks to me."

"Uh huh," replied Sunstreaker, not looking enthusiastic about it.

"We will need a few shots of you, for the pamphlets, posters, and the advertisements. I'm thinking of something along your colour scheme. You know, something a little bright?" the mech continued to talk Sunstreaker's audios off, but the model didn't seem to be too interested in this.

"Who thought this was a good idea?" huffed Sunstreaker, slapping the documents upon the table.

The mech appeared a little flustered, after he noticed the small spark of anger from the model. "Forgive me for my rudeness," he stuttered, "but you did agree to be the spokesperson for this."

Sunstreaker groaned in frustration, leaning back into his chair. "I know," he declared bitterly, "but I still think it's a horrible idea. Who would want to do this?"

Jazz was starting to grow weary of these talks, and made a plan to get up and leave. Before he could though, he noticed someone had entered through the door that lead to the main entrance. It was Sideswipe, and he was carefully walking through the lobby, trying his best not to get noticed. Jazz merely watched him, wondering why he was being so sneaky. Maybe he didn't want to disturb his brother, or he didn't want his brother to see him. He wasn't that keen on blowing the whistle on the kid, so he just watched him sneak on.

Unfortunately, for Sideswipe, his red frame caught the attention of Sunstreaker, who sat up and appeared to be surprised by his brothers presence. "Sideswipe? You're home early."

Sideswipe stopped dead in his tracks, grimacing after getting caught. He slowly turned to face his brother, desperately trying to hide whatever it was he was hiding. "Hey there," he said, faking a grin and waving.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" asked Sunstreaker, looking at the chronosmeter upon the wall, "are you on a break or something?"

Sideswipe sighed, his arms swinging a little. It looked like he was about to confess to something. "I... er... I got let go," he admitted.

Sunstreaker stood up in alarm. "You got fired?" he gasped.

The red mech sighed angrily at his brothers accusation. "I was let go," he repeated firmly.

"It's the same thing!" snapped Sunstreaker, marching over to his twin, "what did you do to get fired?"

"I didn't do anything!" growled Sideswipe, folding his arms across his chest, "they just told me I couldn't work there anymore."

"They don't fire mechs for no good reason!" continued Sunstreaker, getting stressed out. "Were you late? Did you upset someone?"

"I just said, I didn't do anything," snapped Sideswipe, his anger starting to grow at a fast rate. "I have no clue why they let me go, but I know I didn't do anything."

"You've obviously done something," argued Sunstreaker, tapping his foot to vent his anger, "we talked about this Sideswipe, if you can't work with others you're going to have to-"

"How many times do I have to tell you," growled Sideswipe, "I. Didn't. Do. Anything!"

As the twins bickered amongst themselves, Jazz noticed that both Glyph and Quadocular were shaking their heads in disappointed, whilst the business mech hid behind his chair. A couple of servants peeped from behind some doors, fear and curiosity in their optics. Was this common? Did the twins always argued like this?

Jazz then noticed Sideswipe's hands curl into fists as the argument got more heated, and he remembered the warning Platinum gave him. If he didn't do something fast, there might be another incident.

Getting up and striding over to the two brothers, he grabbed Sideswipe and hoisted him over his shoulder. "Hey!" cried Sideswipe, struggling to get free, "put me down!"

"Ok, someone needs a timeout," declared Jazz, carrying Sideswipe out of the room and away from his brother.

"Put me down right now, you jerk!" howled Sideswipe, bashing Jazz's back with his hands and kicking the air in vain.

Jazz headed straight to the glass door, that lead out into one of the estates balconies. Hopefully it was a good place for the kid to vent, far from his brother and anyone else. Once outside, he tossed the red mech to the floor, and locked the door behind them.

Sideswipe sat up and snarled at Jazz. "Who the hell do you think you are!?" he shouted.

"The mech hired to protect your brother," snapped Jazz, "now you sit there and cool your engines!"

Sideswipe stood back up, growling in rage at Jazz. He didn't shout any abuse at him, but he did groan and grunted in frustration. He then proceeded to stomp about, slamming his feet onto the floor as he paced back and forth. Jazz could have sworn he saw steam rising from the kid's frame, he was that angry. He even kicked a potted plant off the balcony, the crystal plant vanishing into the bright abyss below.

"That could hurt someone, y'know," sighed Jazz.

"I don't care," snapped Sideswipe.

Sideswipe continued to pace the wide balcony, venting his anger out with his rapid body movements, but was clearly trying to repress something.

"Need somethin' to say?" asked Jazz, not even certain why he should bother asking.

Sideswipe released a loud cry of fury before unleashing a wave of bitter verbal rage. "He's always on my damn case," he howled, kicking another potted plant over the balcony railings. "The moment I slip up, he acts all high and mighty, whilst treating me like a moron who doesn't know anything!" 

He then paused with his pacing, and started to mimic Sunstreaker. "Sideswipe, why were you fired? Sideswipe, why can't you be more polite? Sideswipe, you need to clean up your act! Hey Sideswipe, why can't you act more like ME!?" Once again he kicked another potted plant, this one going even further than the previous two.

For a while he stood there, venting loud and heavily. He seemed to be calming down, but he was still very upset. He then slowly trudged over to a nearby bench, slumping down into it, leaning over with his head down. He released a huff of hot air, and muttered something under his breath, too low for Jazz to hear.

Jazz stared at him, slowly understanding why the kid was angry. Despite being twins, Sunstreaker was acting like the big responsible brother, wanting the best out of his younger sibling. The only problem was that he was expecting too much out of him. Sideswipe wasn't as flashy and snobby as the other bots of this city, he was just an ordinary mech with a celebrity brother. That contract, the one that made him out to be his own brother's property, must have given Sunstreaker the authority to keep that leash tight on him, and Sideswipe was getting suffocated from it.

He gave Sideswipe a minute before walking over to sit with him. Sideswipe glanced up, a little surprised to see his brothers bodyguard choosing to sit next to him. "Going to lecture me on good behaviour?" he huffed, looking away from the bigger mech.

Jazz leaned back on the bench, one leg over the other, and patted Sideswipe on the back. "Feelin' better?" he asked.

"I don't need your pity," spat Sideswipe, still refusing to look at Jazz, "you have no idea what my life is like."

"Then what do you need?" asked Jazz. Sideswipe didn't seem to want to answer that, and he was silent. Jazz tried to change the question. "What do you want to do, to make you feel better? Go for a walk? Relax at at some park?"

Sideswipe huffed again. "To cover a bunch of models in pink permanent paint," he replied.

"Would that really make you feel better?" asked Jazz, who did think that was a pretty funny idea.

"Maybe," replied Sideswipe. He didn't sound so sure.

Jazz sighed as he leaned back and stared up at the heavens. He wasn't good at this, and it was obvious he wasn't helping. He wasn't even certain why he was trying to help the little punk, but somewhere deep down he had an urge to lend the kid an audio receptor.

"Look," he began, "I don't care if you got fired, or if you got let go, but getting mad at your brother ain't helpin' you."

Sideswipe huffed once more, sitting up a little. "I just wish he would listen to me," he muttered. "I don't even know why I bother telling him my side of the story half the time. He never believes me."

"Is there a reason for that?" queried Jazz. 

The red mech then appeared ashamed about something. "I lied to him a few times," he admitted, "just a few. Silly little things."

"What about?" Jazz's question was met with silence. Obviously Sideswipe did not wish to discuss it. "Ok, if you want your brother to trust you, you gotta earn his trust back. Start with explainin' to him, why you got let go from your job."

Sideswipe looked up at Jazz, a little surprised. "Wait, you believe me?"

"Try me," replied Jazz, "I'll know if you're lyin' to me."

Sideswipe mumbled something before he started his explanation. "I work-... well, I used to work at Huffer's Buffers."

"Huffer's Buffers?" repeated Jazz, realising how stupid that sounded out of his own mouth.

"It's a place to get your armour plating buffed, and painted," explained Sideswipe, "anyway, I worked in the back, painting the armour for the clients and applying the occasional polish. None of the clients saw me, and I kept to myself whilst doing my job. I thought I was doing ok, until Huffer pulled me aside and told me that I couldn't work there no more."

"So he just told you out of the blue?" confirmed Jazz.

"I asked him why, but he didn't give me a reason," continued Sideswipe, "he just said, I can't let you work here anymore, and that was that."

The kid slumped against the bench, sighing miserably. Jazz studied him for a moment, and he concluded that Sideswipe wasn't lying to him. Sure the story sounded a little off and Sideswipe admitted to lying before, but his sensors detected no increase in the kid's spark pulse, and he didn't detect an deceitful tone in Sideswipe's voice. He could only guess that Sideswipe was indeed let go from his job, but as to why was a mystery. 

"Ok, so you're a little upset," began Jazz, "but you need to control that temper of yours. Just give yourself a few minutes before going back to your brother, and calmly tellin' him how it all went down."

Sideswipe looked back up at Jazz, a puzzled look upon his face. "Wait, you don't think I'm lying?"

Jazz shook his head. "It's an odd story, I'll give you that, but I don't think you're fibbin' to me. However, you gettin' all upset like that ain't gonna help convince your brother. So take five, and then tell him again. If he gets upset, let him. You just stay cool."

Sideswipe seemed taken aback by this surprise pep talk, almost as if he wasn't expecting to get one at all. He didn't even appear to know how to respond after this, his mouth opening slightly as if to say something, but no words came out. It made Jazz wonder if anybody had ever sat down with the kid and talked to him like this. Sure, he only said a few words of advice, but it was something that Sideswipe needed to hear, if he was going to win his brothers trust back, and hopefully it would help.

Before Sideswipe could say anything, the door to the balcony unlocked, and Sunstreaker appeared. He didn't appear angry anymore as he walked over towards the two mechs, however he did seem in a better mood. Sideswipe uttered a low groan, his frame tensing a little.

"Keep cool," whispered Jazz, gently nudging Sideswipe on the shoulder.

Rising from where he sat, Sideswipe went to meet with his brother. "Look Sunstreaker, you have to believe me. I was telling the-"

"It's alright, I got it all sorted Sideswipe," announced Sunstreaker.

Once again, Sideswipe appeared taken aback by this sudden information. "Come again?"

Sunstreaker bore a smile, that beamed with pride. "I made a couple of calls, and I found you a new job! The interview is tomorrow afternoon."

"Tomorrow!?" shrieked Sideswipe.

"Don't worry, I'm having Glyph write up your CV," continued Sunstreaker. As he spoke, Glyph appeared, carrying some forms. "Now I booked you into my morning spa trip tomorrow, so you'll be all shiny and clean for your new employers."

"But-" stuttered Sideswipe.

"It will take a whole morning to get you ready, so we'll have to leave early. An early night for you, ok?" Sideswipe tried to say something else, but Sunstreaker cut him off. "Now I'm free this afternoon, so we'll do a practice session on your interview. When I'm done with you, they'll be begging you to work for them."

Sunstreaker then ushered Sideswipe to follow him back inside, the red mech having no choice but to comply with his brother's wishes. He looked over at Jazz before being lead away, his face filled with uncertainty and woe. As he vanished back indoors, Jazz felt a tinge of pity for the kid, seeing first hand how controlling Sunstreaker was with him. Maybe this was why Sideswipe got angry so easily. Was that the reason he struck his own brother before? Because he couldn't take it anymore?

"Excuse me, Jazz?" Glyph appeared to have some business with him. "I just received a call from the 1432D lobby, and apparently you are requested to meet with an enforcer."

Jazz sat up, surprised to hear this. "An enforcer?"

"Yes," confirmed Glyph, "she said it was regarding an private investigation." Glyph then stared at Jazz with a wary look in her optics. "You are not getting in trouble with anyone, are you? You're the bodyguard of the Mortal Sol, and the last thing we need is for you to get in trouble with the law."

Jazz sighed, rubbing his brow in annoyance. "It's cool sweetspark," he said, "I assure you this has nothing to do with the Mortal Sol."

Glyph didn't say anything at first, but continued to stare at Jazz with concern. Jazz just put on his best smile, praying she would leave it alone. Thankfully she had nothing more to say, and walked back inside to finish off the CV. The moment she vanished, Jazz groaned into his hand, unable to believe what happened.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Entering the specific lobby Glyph had told him, Jazz looked about. It wasn't that crowded, but there were still quite a number of bots walking about. He walked further in looking around for this enforcer who called for him. He could only assume, and hope, that this enforcer was the one Prowl had arranged to assist him with his investigation. 

As he ventured further into the lobby, a waving hand caught his attention. It's owner was a robust young femme, decorated in a brilliant white and blue paint job, the colours of the Towers enforcers. She seemed pleased to see Jazz, waving her arm ecstatically. Jazz quickly made his way over to her, wanting her to stop drawing attention.

"Jazz is it?" she announced, smiling in an oddly professional way. "I'm Strongarm, enforcer of the 35th Towers precinct, and I've been assigned by Prowl to assist you in-"

Before she could finish, Jazz slammed his hand over her mouth, dragging her to a small enclave in the wall. Slamming her against the chrome wall, he held her tight. "The hell are you doing?" he hissed.

"I-I was only attempting to make contact with you sir," she stuttered, surprised at how she was being treated. "I didn't hear from you, so I-"

Jazz shook her again, trying to silence her. "Look here rookie," he growled, "the reason I didn't contact you was because I had no need to contact you!" He released her, still glaring angrily at her since she almost ruined everything. "This is a top secret undercover job, you understand what that means right? It means you don't go flappin' your mouth to anyone about me! If they start wonderin' why an enforcer is constantly askin' for me, it's all over, understand?"

She nodded furiously, slowly coming to terms with what she had done. "I was only trying to assist you sir," was her excuse.

Jazz sighed, shaking his head and resting his hands upon his hips. This rookie must have had a good reason for trying to get a hold of him. "So what do you have for me?"

The rookie cleared her throat, composing herself before she began where she was cut off. "I was asked by Prowl to assist you in any way I can. He informed me that I should offer my assistance, even if you don't ask for it."

That sounded like Prowl. "Well I got nothin' for you right now," said Jazz, "I got squat to go on."

Strongarm bit her blue lips. "It might help if you explain to me what exactly you are trying to find."

Jazz wasn't keen to answer, mainly due to the fact that this was an outsider he was talking to, but at some point he knew he was going to have to tell her all about it. Might as well tell her now, rather than keep it from her.

Pulling her into a quiet corner, he gave her a simple answer. "I'm looking for a murderer," he said.

She gasped. "A murderer?" she repeated. "Who did they kill? Is it a serial killer? Are they Cybertrons most wanted?"

Jazz waved his hand in frustration at her, her voice was getting too loud. "I don't know who or why, but some fragger killed a good friend of mine. My pal... His name was Nightbeat."

Strongarm went into deep thought after hearing that name. "I swear I've heard that name before," she muttered. Her face suddenly lit up. "I remember now!" she exclaimed. She brought up her built in comm screen, searching her files for something. "Yes, Nightbeat the PI from Nyon, he was found dead on the the Dexter bridge. Cause of death: sudden impact from s high fall, a common death in the Towers."

Jazz snorted at that. "They all thought it was an accident. Since he wasn't from the Towers, everyone believed he wasn't experienced at crossing the high bridges."

"It does look like it was accident," sighed Strongarm, reading the rest of the report.

"To be honest, I thought it was an accident too," muttered Jazz, "but Prowl thought otherwise. He said that Nightbeat's journal was tampered with."

Strongarm seemed confused at that piece of evidence, so Jazz explained further. "Nightbeat possesses a journal so sturdy, a supernova couldn't damage it. The only way was for someone to open it up and destroy everything inside physically. It raised Prowl's suspicions, so he went to check out the apartment Nightbeat had been rentin' and found that somebody had been snoopin' in it." 

"Stuff was missing?" gasped Strongarm.

"His crime board had been tampered with," answered Jazz, "so we had no clue what exactly he was investigatin' in the Towers. There was one thing he did find, and it's the reason I'm here." Jazz pulled out a small metal sheet, the words "Mortal Sol" written upon it, a red circle surrounding the words. "This was found under the carpet at Nightbeat's place," explained Jazz, "and it was in his handwriting, so Prowl believes Nightbeat was investigatin' somethin' about Sunstreaker aka the Mortal Sol."

Strongarm seemed troubled now. "What was he investigating the Mortal Sol for?"

Jazz replied with a shrug. "I dunno, but I have to find out. All I have to go on right now are these notes." Jazz pulled out the notes that Prowl gave him and showed them to her, secretly hoping she would recognise one of them. 

She looked at the list, carefully reading each line. "Incident 512, that could be anything in a crime record. I can check the enforcer records, but I guess Prowl might have already done that," she muttered, "L266, I have no clue I'm afraid, maybe s password or something. The Heights 2245? That fancy hotel? That place is involved?"

"It's a hotel?" confirmed Jazz, making a note of that.

Strongarm nodded and continued reading the list. "Beauty Immortal, I've seen that advertised but I have no idea what it's about. Knockout huh? He's involved?"

"Who is he?" asked Jazz, feeling pleased that Strongarm was indeed helping.

"He's a model for the Vertigo company and he is as vain as the next one. Hmm... Spark Flowers? I can't help you with that, sorry. Brawl's case contents? Brawl? I know I heard that name somewhere." She looked at the last item on the list. "The Towers Times? You can read that on the local archive network." 

It wasn't much but it was a start. Maybe having this rookie helping him wouldn't be so bad, but she still had to prove herself. If Prowl had confidence in her, then Jazz was just going to have trust her for now.

"I'm sorry if I wasn't any help," she sighed, "and I'm sorry for calling you out like this. I just really wanted to help."

"You did help me a little," reassured Jazz, smiling a little, "but next time I'll be callin' for you, 'kay?"

Strongarm nodded with a grin, already looking much better after that small amount of praise. "I'll give you my contact details, and I'll look into these items on the list in more detail. If I find something I'll call you to let you know," she chirped.

Sounded like a plan. "Alright, I guess I'll look into this Knockout fella," suggested Jazz, "I just gotta find him."

"I can help with that," declared Strongarm, pulling out her comm screen yet again. "Since models are a valued commodity in the Towers, the Enforcers have to keep a track on their schedule."

"Wait, you guys keep tabs on them constantly?" Jazz was slightly appalled at that.

"Oh it's not like we put trackers on them," chuckled Strongarm, "the models just inform us in advance where they're gonna be, or their agent does, so if there is an incident at their current location we can just rush on over to where they are and help them."

So every law enforcer in the city knew where a model was going to be no matter what? The way they went about to protect these models seemed over the top, but that was the Towers for you. In fact, now that he thought about it, Jazz was starting to think that the models were nothing more but personal property to whatever company owned them. Strongarm even said that they were a valuable asset to the city. They weren't allowed to be touched, weren't allowed to engage in certain activities, they weren't even allowed to consume certain beverages.

The models of the Towers seemed to be more like highly maintained pampered pets with flexible reigns.

"Here he is," announced Strongarm, "he's currently doing a photo shoot at a Vertigo studio, and then he'll retire to his home for the rest of the day. However he will be at the Celestial Spa in Upper Gleam D-South level 3776 tomorrow morning. That's the best time to talk to him."

Jazz cursed aloud, for he was going to be guarding Sunstreaker all day tomorrow. "I'm gonna have to find another time to chat with him." Who knew when that would be.

Strongarm then gave Jazz a smug grin. "You're in luck sir, for it seems the Mortal Sol is also booked into that spa as well, around the same time slot."

That was indeed lucky. This rookie was proving herself a whole lot. "Cool, I'll see if I can talk to him tomorrow then. He must know something about Nightbeat," he hoped aloud.

"I have to return to the station sir," suddenly announced Strongarm, "but I will look into those things for you asap!"

Jazz nodded and gave her a thankful pat on the shoulder. "Thanks again rookie, but remember that unless I need you, do not contact me. Understood?"

Strongarm nodded, saluting Jazz much to his annoyance, and dashed off. Jazz watched her leave and sighed. He had a small lead now but as to what it will lead him too, he was unsure. He had a feeling that something was going to go down tomorrow, but whatever it was he was going to face it. For Nightbeat's sake.


	4. Chapter 4

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, arguing, an accident

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The trip to the spa was a little bit awkward, given that Jazz was stuck in the middle of a pair of twins, one of them being mad at the other and the other acting oblivious to it, or possibly aware of it and just remaining ignorant for now. Sunstreaker hired a private shuttle to deliver them to the selected spa, which Jazz wasn't so happy about. It would have been easier to transform and drive there, but apparently models were forbidden to convert into their vehicle modes unless it was for a photo shoot. Jazz had been itching to burn his own rubber, but he was going to have to save it for another day.

Sideswipe slumped in a corner seat, his arms folded and his legs crossed. He drummed his fingers along his arm and glared off into space, where his mind had ventured off to no one could say. He wasn't at all happy that his brother had forced him to go to a spa, but it wasn't as if he couldn't say no. Sunstreaker was in another corner, taking phone calls and arranging photo shoots, acting as he normally did on a daily basis. Jazz sat in between them, feeling out of place and not wanting to get sucked into the family feud. A little too late for that unfortunately.

Once they arrived, Sunstreaker was given a warm welcome whilst Jazz and Sideswipe were completely ignored, not that either of them cared. They were ushered into a beautiful silver white hall, where models lounged about and spa workers attended to their needs. A mech approached Sunstreaker, wearing a sickening smile upon his pale face. "It is so good to have you back here Mortal Sol," he exclaimed, bowing in an exaggerated way. "We've arranged the deluxe package for you, just as you requested."

Sunstreaker laughed a little. "Oh I am sorry, but I'm just here for a standard wax and buff. The deluxe package is for my brother here," he explained, pointing over at Sideswipe.

The mech looked over at Sideswipe and accidentally uttered a gag of disgust. "I-I see," he said, trying to remain composed, "we'll do what we can for him." As he walked off he shouted out to his staff, "I NEED A VAT OF PREMIUM SCENTED OIL READY AND MAKE SURE ITS SET TO A HIGH TEMPERATURE!" 

Sideswipe shuffled a little, his arms folded as he tried to hide himself in plain sight. Jazz noticed that everyone that passed him gave him a look of disgust and pity. Some would sneer at him from where they stood, taking pleasure in secretly poking fun at him. Jazz didn't understand why for Sideswipe wasn't that bad looking, he was just average compared to all of them. Sideswipe himself just appeared annoyed and a little embarrassed. It was as plain as day that he didn't want to be here.

They walked in further until they entered a large open room filled with small oil pools, massage tables and one very large pool of steaming hot water. Models relaxed as the spa staff attended to their every need and desire. Jazz, along with the twins, were lead to a reserved area where two lounge chairs awaited them along with a small pool filled with a oddly scented chemical.

"This chemical bath will remove all rust and paintwork from your frame as well as leaving you smelling divine," explained a staff member, ushering Sideswipe to get in.

Sunstreaker sat upon one of the chairs and looked up at his brother. "Go on Sideswipe, hop in."

Sideswipe groaned in disgust as he stared at the bubbling pool. "Do I have too?" he moaned.

"Yes silly," teased Sunstreaker, "you got to look your best for the interview."

The red mech huffed as he awkwardly entered the pool, his red paint already melting off. In embarrassment he quickly ducked in so only his head was visible above the liquid surface. Sunstreaker laughed a little as he watched his brother desperately trying to hide.

"It's not funny," huffed Sideswipe, sinking lower into the tub. "I look horrible without any colour." Well who wouldn't look good without any colour?

"In about five minutes you'll need to exit the pool and proceed to room 67a so we can apply the next coat of paint," explained the staff member, ignoring Sideswipe's complaints with incredible ease. "Then once the paint had set, a high quality gloss will be applied followed by an extreme buffing session."

Sideswipe huffed in response as he was instructed what to do and Sunstreaker continued to laugh at him. "Stop making that face Sideswipe," he chortled, "you look cute when you make that face." For some reason Sideswipe look uncomfortable upon hearing his brother say that.

Jazz thought it was a sweet little brotherly bonding scene, but he had no time to admire it. He looked around the room, his optics hopping from one model to the next. He had to find this Knockout fella for he was a potential lead. Nightbeat wrote his name down in his journal and there had to be a valid reason why. Nightbeat never bothered to write down things he didn't need so Jazz could only hope that this Knockout was indeed some assistance. All he knew about Knockout was that he was a short scarlet mech with a holier-than-thou attitude and carried a lavish Helix accent. He apparently was also addicted to buffing. Looking all over the large room Jazz was hoping that someone of that description would show up shortly.

"Hey bodyguard!" Jazz looked down to see Sideswipe glaring up at him from within the bath. "Go grab me a drink."

The nerve this punk had, and only yesterday Jazz gave him a decent pep talk after he threw a tantrum. "I ain't your maid kid," hissed Jazz, "go get it yourself."

"I can't leave this bath moron," snapped Sideswipe.

"Sideswipe, Jazz works for me," cut in Sunstreaker, "and he can't leave my side just to grab you a beverage."

"He's not exactly doing anything," argued Sideswipe, "and this place is a private spa filled with those guards your company hires. What was the point in bringing him here?"

Jazz cringed slightly. Sideswipe was right, for every private spa in the Towers had guards in place to protect the models. Bodyguards were not really needed unless it was a public spa and since this one wasn't, Jazz didn't really need to be there. He offered to come along just in case despite Sunstreaker saying he wasn't really needed, but the model was impressed with Jazz's keen nature to protect him so he allowed it. The real reason Jazz tagged along was to find Knockout and he was about to let this punk to shoo him away.

"I don't work for you kid, so quit whinin' and deal with it," he spat, ignoring the glare Sideswipe continued to give him.

Sideswipe huffed in defiance, muttering some curses as he continued to soak in the bath in silence. Jazz ignored him and continued to scan the crowd in silence. He spotted a few red mechs here and there, but none of them looked like the one he was looking for. For a moment he thought he saw him but it turned out to be one of the spa staff running an errand. He did see one bulky blue mech grabbing a couple of drinks from a bar. One of the drinks looked normal but the other one looked like a bizarre cocktail in an extravagant glass complete with a mini umbrella and a curly straw. The mech himself stuck out like a sore thumb, for he was too broad, appeared rough and one of his golden optics was hidden behind a metal patch. He looked more like a member of some chain gang, ready to start a fight with anyone who dared to challenge him. It was possible that he was a bodyguard for one of the visiting models but to whom he was supposed to be protecting Jazz was uncertain.

"Looks like you aren't the only bodyguard here after all," chuckled Sunstreaker, also noticing the bulky blue mech mech.

"Know him?" asked Jazz.

"Yes that's Breakdown the bodyguard for Knockout, the Divine Doctor," answered Sunstreaker.

Jazz's optics lit up upon hearing that name. "You mean the model for the Vertigo company?" asked Jazz, wanting to be absolutely certain.

"Indeed the very one," answered Sunstreaker, "he's an odd one since he actually is a doctor, but the Vertigo company were desperate to get their hands on him. No doubt he's here for a buffing session."

Ok so he was here and now he just had to find him. Unfortunately Breakdown had disappeared into a doorway with the words "Buffing Parlour" above them, and it was most likely that Knockout was in there. Jazz needed to get in there but he couldn't exactly leave Sunstreaker for no good reason. Just like Sideswipe said, he wasn't needed but he couldn't just walk off without Sunstreaker's consent. Maybe if he waited till Sunstreaker went off for his appointment he could quickly disappear to have a quick chat with Knockout. 

A loud wet sound alerted him to turn round and he spotted Sideswipe climbing out of the chemical bath. His red colour was completely gone, leaving behind a slim dripping wet dark grey body. Embarrassed, Sideswipe quickly grabbed a large bath towel, covering himself completely so only his face peeped out from under the hood of the towel. The staff member ran off to check if the next room was ready for the next stage of Sideswipe's treatment, leaving poor Sideswipe standing there and hugging himself with his towel.

"Jazz, I'm just going to grab a drink," announced Sunstreaker, "my treatment room is a little behind due to some technical difficulty, so we're going to be running a little late." Jazz huffed in annoyance as Sunstreaker trotted off to the nearby bar. He was this close to getting somewhere but at this rate he was going to miss out on a golden opportunity.

"You looked pissed," sneered Sideswipe suddenly, "what's the matter? Can't perv on anyone in here without causing a fuss?"

Jazz had it up to the ceiling with the punk's attitude. Did he just act like this when he was in situations he didn't want to be in, taking out his pent up rage on others? The only thing he regretted right now was showing this kid some pity.

He marched over to Sideswipe, pulling his lips to form a snarl. "Seriously kid, stay out of my business or I'll make you regret crossin' paths with me!"

Sideswipe made a "tch" sound as he stepped back a little. "What business is that exactly? You're not needed here, so why were you do insisted on coming?" He then gave Jazz a dirty look. "I bet you really did come here to perv on someone."

Jazz felt something snap inside his head. Keeping his cool he decided to retort to Sideswipe's petty insult. "You gettin' jealous or something kid? Well I got bad news, you ain't my type."

Hearing this made Sideswipe's jaw drop, his face filled with surprise and his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink. Then his expression turned into a scowl and the young mech's grip on his towel tighten until it was almost ready to rip. Jazz was hoping that this would make the punk stomp off or something, but before he did Sideswipe pointed to Jazz's face. "Your visor is cracked," he said.

Reaching up for his visor, Jazz ran a finger over it. He didn't feel any damage on it, and it seemed to be functioning normally. He was about to snap at the kid again when Sideswipe pressed a hand up against Jazz's chassis and pushed hard. With his guard dropped Jazz lost his balance, swinging his arms desperately as he tried to regain it. He failed and ended up falling backwards into the chemical bath behind him. Completely submerged in the vile smelling chemicals Jazz hauled himself out as fast as he could, gripping the sides of the bath as he viciously glared up at Sideswipe. Some models nearby laughed at the scene, finding it amusing to see someone like Jazz completely soaked like a drowned turbo fox. Sideswipe just stared down at him with a triumphant grin and as he was lead away by a member of staff, he stuck his glossa out at the soaking wet bodyguard.

"I'm going to murder that brat," hissed Jazz, wiping the chemicals from his face.

Sunstreaker returned from the bar with his drink and seemed pleasantly surprised to see Jazz in the chemical bath. "Oh Jazz, you should have asked if you wanted some treatment," he giggled. Jazz looked at himself and was horrified to see his paintwork melting off his body. Sunstreaker waved a hand at one of the spa staff. "I don't suppose you can give him a deluxe package as well? I need my bodyguard looking the part."

Jazz cringed again as an ecstatic mech stood over him. "Why of course," he said with delight. "I'm thinking hot pink with purple flames! Or maybe a sunset orange with golden highlights?"

"Standard white with my red and blue highlights," barked Jazz, "and if you dare try to give me any extra colour, I'll drown you in this stuff!" The spa staff ignored the threat as he ordered to have the tub refilled.

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The stench from his armour made Jazz want to gag and purge his tanks. After that accidental soak in the chemical bath he was taken to a room where he was covered in a coat of pre-paint and then was escorted to another room where they were going buff some polish in before applying the paint. Jazz insisted that he just want a regular paint job but it fell on deaf audios. He had to go through the whole ordeal of this deluxe package Sunstreaker suddenly dumped on him. As he was covered in various armour polish and rust chemicals, Jazz could only think on how he was going to get even with that damn punk. It wasn't just the fact that he was going through this joke of a treatment because of that little stunt but it was possibly that he missed Knockout all together. 

"I'm going to drag him up to the tallest tower and throw him off," he hissed.

"What was that?" asked the spa staff.

"Nothin'," muttered Jazz, forgetting the small mech was still present.

"Anyway, this is the buffing chamber where the pre-paint will be buffed into your armour before we apply the finishing coat," explained the staff, "now this chamber has a scented atmosphere to help you relax and will also get soaked into your armour, leaving you smeller fresher for longer."

Jazz let loose a loud agitated groan as he entered the chamber. There were already a few models in the room lying on berths as staff members buffed their armour. Some gave Jazz an odd look as he sat down on one of the berths. A staff member appeared with an expensive buffer in her hands and proceeded to buff Jazz's legs. The machine barely uttered a sound and Jazz couldn't deny that this felt really nice. Still he was a bit pissed about the whole Knockout business. The pre-paint treatment took so long that Jazz was certain he missed him. If he was going to have to contact Strongarm and see if she could get a hold of Knockout's schedule once more.

It was then that he noticed that someone large was standing near him. Looking over his shoulder he saw that big blue mech from before, Breakdown. Jazz felt his hope reignite for if Breakdown was here then Knockout still had to be here as well. In fact he noticed that Breakdown was standing next to one of the berths which had a red mech laying on it. The red mech bore a curved spiky helm and his body was a mixture of sharp and smooth shapes. He was drinking an extravagant drink through a straw with one hand and reading a magazine with the other, whilst a couple of staff members buffed his armour. This had to be Knockout, it just had to be.

Jazz had to get his attention somehow so he could pump something information about Nightbeat out of him. Small talk wasn't going to cut it so he had to think of something to get him interested in talking to him. Still if this guy was like the other models he had met up here then he wouldn't want to be caught dead talking to a non model. He'd just get his bodyguard to shoo him away or kick him out. Jazz then realised that if he couldn't talk with Knockout, then the next best thing was with his bodyguard.

"Hey buddy," said Jazz, looking up at Breakdown as he spoke, "havin' fun over there? Must be pretty neat being the bodyguard for the Divine Doctor."

Breakdown looked at Jazz with a stoic expression. "I'm working," he declared before going back to ignoring Jazz.

"I feel you pal," continued Jazz, refusing to give up. "Bein' a bodyguard is a hard job but it's so rewardin'. Never know when some goon is gonna try and get too close to your model, but that's what we're here for."

As Jazz continued to try and talk to Breakdown, he noticed from the corner of his optics that Knockout was peering over at him. He had to keep going but Breakdown had other ideas. "If you're a bodyguard then where's the one you're supposed to be guarding?" he demanded.

"Oh he's back in the main room," explained Jazz, keeping it cool, "I mean working for the Mortal Sol has its perks and all but-"

"You're the bodyguard for the Mortal Sol?" Jazz had been cut off by Knockout himself, the red model himself now showed interest in Jazz or rather in the Mortal Sol.

"I do," confirmed Jazz with grin, "I'm his latest bodyguard. The names Jazz."

Knockout studied him for brief moment before talking. "Well I believe that introducing myself would be pointless to you, since you clearly know who I am." He glanced up at his own bodyguard. "Breakdown, would be a dear and bring Jazz a little closer?"

Breakdown huffed in annoyance, giving Jazz a vile glare of disproval from his single golden optic, but did as he was told. He grabbed the berth Jazz was sitting on and, with hardly any effort, dragged both Jazz and the berth closer to Knockout. The spa staff said nothing as they readjusted themselves to continue their work. Jazz was quite surprised with how how strong this guy was, but then again a bodyguard needed such strength to protect their model.

"So Jazz, it is Jazz right? Anyway I was rather hoping to meet with the Mortal Sol's bodyguard," exclaimed Knockout, stirring his drink with the straw. "Though I'll admit you're not as buff as the last one the Mortal Sol employed."

"You wanted to see me?" Jazz was quite surprised by this. Why would anyone from the Towers wish to talk to him? He a few ideas as to why, given his job and who he worked for, but for now he was just going to see where this went. "So why do you want to meet me so bad?" he asked.

Knockout chuckled as he explained. "Well this is a rather delicate matter but it's something that only someone like you can assist me with." He took a sip of his drink before continuing. "But before we go any further tell me, what do you think of the Mortal Sol?"

Jazz was aware that many of the models in the Towers didn't really get on well with each other. He had only known Sunstreaker for a short while but he was a decent sort, if not controlling and incredibly vain. Still he better choose his words carefully just in case. "He's alright I suppose," he answered, "a bit on the controlling side but he seems decent enough."

Knockout sighed and wiped his brow. "You're too kind with your words," he chuckled, "or maybe you can't see past that wretched smile of his. He's as cruel and wicked as the next one, and he's not just a pretty face. There is a calculating mind in that fair head of his, I know that all too well."

"I'll admit I have seen a little of that ugly side of his," confessed Jazz, "but aren't all models just the same?"

Breakdown didn't appear to like that answer but it made Knockout laugh out loud. "Touché Jazz," he chortled, "yes, all models are devils wearing halos in this city." As the spa staff began to buff Knockout's extended arm, the red mech gave Jazz a devilish look. "So I have a little proposal for you Jazz, if you interested?"

"What sort of proposal?" queried Jazz.

"Information," answered Knockout, "since you're the Mortal Sol's bodyguard you'll be able to acquire it easily. If you're willing to get it for me."

Jazz frowned. He didn't want to put his job at risk but he was desperate to know what Knockout knew about Nightbeat. Whatever Knockout was after he could only hope it wasn't going to get him fired or worse. "What sort of information?" he asked.

Knockout looked around cautiously, making certain the other models weren't listening in or looking in their general direction. He then ushered Jazz to lean in closer so he could tell him. Jazz stretched over, tuning his audios into what Knockout was going to say. "I need to know what colour the Mortal Sol's paint is."

Jazz felt his expression drop. "Are you serious?" he grunted, "he's yellow for Primus' sake."

"I'm aware of his colour but I need his EXACT colour," explained Knockout, "the name of his colour, the brand, the precise digits located on the can."

This has to be the dumbest thing Jazz had ever heard. "Can't you just ask him?"

"If I could I wouldn't be talking to you, now would I?" retorted Knockout, "in case you didn't realise, all of the models in the Towers keep every single personal thing about themselves locked up in secrecy. Their polish, their makeup, their armour manufacturer, and even their paint. If an outside source found out about them they think it would destroy their career."

"Yeah, but you just gotta take one look at him and know that he's a bright yellow," argued Jazz.

"Bright yellow?" gasped Knockout, "there is no way that he's a simple bright yellow. Look, Breakdown here is a dark teal 653.9 Hue Light Co brand colour scheme with a light maroon 444.2 Deluxe Colour INC brand face. That femme over there is a ultra violent 289.2 Aromatic Optical brand with midnight black 119.6 Hue Light Co highlights." Knockout looked back at Jazz with a slight scowl. "I have yet to find out what exact colour the Mortal Sol is, and I'm in desperate need of it."

Jazz still thought it was an incredibly stupid thing to ask for. Out of all the things he could have asked for he went for a precise colour scheme?

"I'll make it worth your while," pleaded Knockout, "I'm certain five hundred shanix can cover it."

A nice offer but Jazz didn't need money. He himself needed information and if getting a paint colour was all he needed to trade for it, then he had just landed himself a genuine deal. "Tell you what," he said, "I'll give you the info in exchange for some info, deal?"

Knockout appeared alarmed. "If it's my beauty secrets you can forget it," he huffed.

"Nothing like that," promised Jazz, "I just need to know if you ever met a PI name Nightbeat."

Knockout's optics reacted slightly to hearing that name. "How do you know him?" he asked, his voice now using a low and uncertain tone.

"He's a friend of mine," explained Jazz, "and I know he went to talk to you. I just want to know why." 

Truthfully Jazz wasn't aware if Nightbeat had spoken with Knockout so he took an educated guess, and it seemed he was right. Knockout took another sip of his drink before answering. "I don't know how he found out but he came to me about my side business. I make drugs, LEGAL drugs, for those who need them. I kept that business low key but somehow he found out. He came to me one day to inquire about something. He was after the name of one of my clients."

Jackpot. "Who was he looking for?" demanded Jazz.

Knockout then gave Jazz a sly look. "Honestly I didn't care what he was going to do with that information, nor do I care if you get it. It won't affect me either way. It clearly means something to you so I'll give you the information once you get me what I need."

Fair enough. "So you'll give me that name once I get you the Mortal Sol's colour scheme?" confirmed Jazz.

"Exactly," replied Knockout, "now once you finished your treatment, meet me in the main hall. I'll book you in for an appointment." At first Jazz wasn't certain what he meant, but then he realised that Knockout was merely setting up another meeting with him to trade the information. "Although I am a little curious about something," muttered Knockout, "why would you, a bodyguard, want to know what I've been doing with a PI? Also how did you find out about it?"

Jazz bit his lip, not wanting to give away too much information about himself. "Let's just say I'm here to finish something," he answered. 

Knockout said nothing more and gave Jazz instructions on where to meet him after their treatments. Jazz nodded in agreement and right on cue a spa member informed Jazz that the next stage of his treatment was ready.

"I'll be waiting in the main hall," called out Knockout as Jazz walked away to get his paint job done.

Breakdown frowned as the Mortal Sol's bodyguard left. "Was it a good idea to tell him that? That PI was getting into dangerous territory with all those questions he was asking and I heard he ended up dead."

Knockout huffed and waved a dismissing hand. "What he does with that information is up to him. If he does end up crossing paths with that antler headed brute, that's his problem."

"Do you think it was him who killed that PI?" asked Breakdown, still a little uneasy.

"He is a lot of things, dear Breakdown," sighed Knockout, "but he wouldn't dare order a hit unless his entire operation was at risk. What that PI wanted wasn't enough to cause him trouble."

\------------------------------------------------------

As he left the painting room, Jazz could not help but admire his fresh look. His white colour seemed almost pure and his red and blue highlights stood out even more, making his white paintwork stand out even more. He couldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror, shocked that he could look even better than he usually looked. Unfortunately he wasn't finished with his treatment just yet, for the final stage was to have a protective coat of wax smothered all over him. Still if it kept him looking this good for a while longer he couldn't complain. Whilst he waited for the next stage of the treatment, he continued to admire himself in the mirror and used the camera in his visor to take some photos. He was going to have to send some to Prowl for a laugh.

"You done looking at yourself yet?" came a familiar voice.

Jazz's expression transformed into a scowl and he looked over his shoulder to see Sideswipe. He was no longer covered in a towel and he was now covered in his usual red colour, only now it was a bit brighter than how it usually was. Jazz had not forgotten what the little punk had did to him before and he wasn't going to let him get away with it.

"You must think you're pretty funny, don't 'cha?" spat Jazz, "but next time kid, it will be me who's laughin' and you will be cryin'!"

Sideswipe snorted at him, showing not one ounce of remorse. "You should be thanking me," he teased, "because now you don't look like a back ally drifter."

Jazz was ready to punch the kid's lights out. "What's with you anyway?" snapped Jazz. "The moment we met you treated me like scrap, and even after I sat down and listen to you whine about how your life sucks, you still treat me like I'm scum. What is your deal with me?"

The red mech appeared a little taken back by that. "You're only going to treat me like dirt at some point," muttered Sideswipe, "I might as well beat you to the punch."

"That's it!?" snapped Jazz, unimpressed, "you think I'm some sort of bully? You know nothin' at all 'bout me at all kid. You didn't even try to know me. I tried to help you but you just slapped me in the face for it!" Sideswipe said nothing but avoided optic contact with the bodyguard. Jazz sighed as he tried a different approach. "Look, I ain't a bad guy."

"That's what they all say," said Sideswipe bitterly, "they pretend to act decent and caring, but the moment you expose something to them they take advantage and leave you in the rust." Sideswipe sighed heavily and stared down at himself. "Everyone looks at me and sees a problem, a thing they don't want to associate with. They just keep their distance and mock me, just so they can feel better about themselves."

Jazz felt a small tingle of pity for the kid, but he wasn't about to feel all out sorry for him yet. "Surely your friends think-"

"I don't have friends," snapped Sideswipe.

"Well not with that attitude," scoffed Jazz.

"I tried making friends," argued Sideswipe, tightly clenching his fists, "but no one wanted to know me. No one wanted to get close, they didn't even try. If I wasn't related to him, I might have had a shot but..." Sideswipe sighed again and hung his head even lower. "They take out their anger and jealousy they have for him on me."

"So your brother makes it hard for you to make friends?" guessed Jazz, scratching his helm.

"Not just friends but-" Sideswipe paused. "Why the hell am I telling you this? You're just going to rub it in my face later."

"See! Right there! Right fraggin' there! That's your problem," snapped Jazz. "You keep treatin' me like I'm a threat. I'm not a threat and I'm not here to mess your life up. If you just trust me then-" As Jazz had a go at him, Sideswipe's optics suddenly widened when he looked over Jazz's shoulder. Without warning he suddenly stood close and crouched right next to Jazz, surprised the bodyguard. "W-what the heck are you doin' kid?" hissed Jazz.

"Oi nuthead, get outta ma way!"

Jazz looked over his shoulder to find a sharply designed mech with an extravagant colour scheme standing behind him. He looked familiar and Jazz was certain he knew him from somewhere, but he couldn't put his finger on it. The mech stared coldly at Jazz, tapping his foot in anger. "Are ya gonna get outta ma way or wut?" he snapped.

"Go around," said Jazz bluntly, not giving a damn.

"Do ya have any idea who I am?" hissed the mech, "I can get you tossed off the tallest tower you nut licker! Now move it before I call security." Not wanting to cause a fuss, but still a little annoyed at how he was treated, Jazz shifted out of the way. As he moved Sideswipe carefully moved with him, making certain to keep out of sight of the rude mech. "Are you hiding something from me?" snapped the mech, who seemed to notice something was off.

Jazz shrugged at him. He honestly couldn't give a damn if he revealed that he was involuntary hiding Sideswipe, but this rude mech was stating to get on his nerves. "If I am hidin' something from you then it ain't your business," sneered Jazz, "keep walkin' pal."

"How dare you talk to me like that," growled the rude mech, "I'll have you done in for this!" And with that he stomped off. A spa staff chased after him. "Mister Tremor sir, your steam room is over there," she cried.

Once the rude mech had stomped off and was completely out of sight, Sideswipe stepped out of hiding. Jazz was about to snap at him again when he noticed the look the red mech had upon his face. Sideswipe looked angry, scared and disgusted, glaring in the direction of where the rude mech had gone. An ugly sensation seemed to be radiating off the red mech, and Jazz couldn't deny it made him feel a little uneasy. 

"Did you know him?" asked Jazz, not even sure why he was asking.

Sideswipe said nothing at first. He seemed to be trying to hold something in. "N-none of your business," he suddenly snapped before stomping off himself.

Jazz rolled his optics and sighed. He didn't even know why he bothered to try and listen to what that punk had to say, he was just too rude and unsociable. Although he could not deny he felt somewhat concerned for him. 

\------------------------------------------------------

With his treatment complete, Jazz returned to the main hall to find Sunstreaker resting on a lounge chair drinking a fancy looking cocktail. He himself looked perfectly polished and he appeared refreshed. He looked up at Jazz and smiled as he admired his bodyguard's updated look.

"You look so much better Jazz," praised Sunstreaker.

"I'm not gonna lie, but I do feel good," chuckled Jazz.

"Sideswipe is just going through the final stage of his treatment, so we're just waiting on him," informed Sunstreaker, sipping his drink. "I believe that the Divine Doctor is looking for you. Need some work done?"

Jazz almost flinched. How did he know that? Thankfully he didn't seem to care, but Jazz had to be cautious not to rouse suspicion. "We met during my treatment and he and I got to talkin' about repairs and stuff," explained Jazz, "I've been meaning to get a check up done and he offered to book me in for a standard check up."

Sunstreaker appeared to have bought it. "I do need you in tip top condition and he is one of the best doctors in the Towers," he chuckled. He pointed over to where Knockout and his bodyguard were waiting. "He's just over there. Tell him I said hello."

Excusing himself, Jazz walked over to Knockout whom seemed happy to see him. "I thought you weren't going to show up," chuckled the doctor, taking out a personal planner from his sub space. "Now I can book you in a couple of days. Is that sufficient time for you to get what I need?"

"Should be," answered Jazz, "but I don't suppose you know where I can start lookin' for it?"

"The studio would be the best place to start," suggested Knockout, "all models keep spare cans of their paint in every studio they use just in case. The Mortal Sol most likely keeps his stashed away in a few of his privately owned studios."

As Knockout filled out the appointment form, Breakdown suddenly spoke. "Word of advice, don't get caught looking for the paint. Some bodyguards try to sell information like that for huge sums of shanix, so they'll find it suspicious if they catch you in the act."

"Yes, I heard a few bodyguards got fired for that," muttered Knockout, "someone even tried to get Breakdown here to sell some of my beauty secrets."

"I punched their fragging optics out," cackled Breakdown, taking pleasure in recalling the violence he inflicted in the past. "They all started fearing me when they figured out I wasn't gonna rat out Knockout's secrets,"

"Well ain't you the loyal one," snorted Jazz.

"I more loyal than you are," sneered Breakdown.

True, Jazz couldn't deny that. "Now, now you two," sighed Knockout, "Breakdown, don't question our friend's loyalty. This is just a simple trade of information, it's not going to hurt anyone." Knockout handed Jazz a form displaying an afternoon appointment two days from now. It even had a decent mini map drawn onto it. "I don't think I need to tell you that there is no point in you showing up if you don't have the information I require."

"Don't fret, I'll get it," promised Jazz, "just make sure that you keep your end of the bargain."

"Yes, yes, what that PI was after," huffed Knockout, "I haven't forgotten."

Now that the date was set, Jazz turned to return to Sunstreaker when he noticed a commotion happening near the entrance of the steam rooms. The spa staff seemed panicked as they rushed about, causing unrest among the models. Jazz quickly got over to Sunstreaker, who was also observing the scene with concern.

"What's goin' on?" asked Jazz.

Sunstreaker shrugged. "Possibly one of their steam rooms broke or someone important is having a fit," he guessed. "I do hope it's not Sideswipe, he just went in there." On cue, Sideswipe walked out of the door to the steam rooms and he too looked puzzled at the panic the spa staff were emitting. He trotted over to Sunstreaker who was relieved to see him. "Oh Sideswipe you look wonderful," he cooed, admiring how clean his brother looked.

"What's happening over there?" asked Sideswipe, ignoring his brother's praise and looking back at the scene.

"You were just in there," stated Jazz, "you must have-"

Before Jazz could finish an audio shattering scream echoed through the hall. Everyone stopped and stared as the spa staff were panicking even more, ordering each other to call security and medical staff. Some of the staff rush out of the steam rooms entrance with terrified expressions upon their faces. Many of the models started to grow uneasy and one of them dared to ask what was happening. Security guards started dashing in and barking orders to the staff and the nearby models.

An announcement suddenly rung through the air. "Attention, this is your Celestial Spa host speaking. An incident has occurred in the within the steam rooms. Could all visitors please vacate the area and standby for further instructions. Please do not attempt to leave the Celestial Spa until authorised by security. I repeat..."

Models nearby began to complain out loud whilst most started to get scared. They began paging their bodyguards and mangers, desperate to feel safe or to understand what was happening.

"What is going on?" shouted one, "we demand to know why you are holding us in here!"

Jazz stuck close to Sunstreaker just in case, the model not looking bothered. "They better let us out soon," he huffed, "Sideswipe will miss his interview." A nearby security guard stood nearby and Sunstreaker stomped over towards him. "You, I need to leave this instant," he demanded, "my brother is going to be late."

"Forgive me Mortal Sol," stuttered the guard, "but until we got everything under control no one can leave."

"What exactly is goin' on?" asked Jazz.

The guard bit his lip and shuffled a little before answering. "Someone got seriously hurt in one of the steam rooms, that's all I know," he said.

"What is there to get under control then," snapped Sunstreaker, "I am ordering you to let me and my brother leave."

"But s-sir, I can't just-" Another guard appeared to cut him off. "It's alright, the Mortal Sol has been given authorisation to leave," stated the new guard. 

"Finally," huffed Sunstreaker, leaving with Jazz and Sideswipe in tow. 

As they walked out the dos, Jazz saw a few emergency vehicles pull up, transforming into medics and enforcers as they rushed inside. Looking down at Sideswipe, he noticed that he was oddly quiet. In fact he looked a little uneasy. Looking back at the chaos erupting inside and out of the spa, Jazz wondered what had happened and why it felt like it was tied to what he was here for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MENTIONS OF RAPE ATTEMPT AND A MURDER

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, mention of past rape attempt, someone getting killed

\------------------------------------------------------

It was early in the afternoon as the shuttle Sunstreaker hired made its way through the city. Jazz looked out the window, staring at the metropolis that rushed on by. Sunstreaker was sitting in the same spot as before, smiling that sweet smile of his as he continued to admire how clean his brother looked. Sideswipe himself just sat in a huff, with his arms folded and his face in the form of an angry pout. Right now Jazz could only think about what happened back at the spa, wondering what on Cybertron had happened. Deep down, something was telling him it was relevant to why he was here, but he wasn't certain as to why.

Once they reached their destination, Sunstreaker urgently ushered Sideswipe out of the shuttle. "Come now Sideswipe," he said, "we're going to be late."

As Jazz climbed out behind them, he heard Sideswipe say in an angry voice, "you got me a job at this dump?" Looking up Jazz found himself staring at what appeared to be a hotel, located right at the top of the tower they had climbed. It was then that he saw the name of the hotel in big green and silver letters.

"The Heights."

Jazz recalled the name from the clues Nightbeat left behind and Strongarm had informed him that it was a fancy hotel. Was this a coincidence? Why was this hotel listed in the notes Nightbeat had written? He knew that Nightbeat's case revolved around the Mortal Sol and it was Sunstreaker's idea for Sideswipe to get a job here. What key role did this hotel play in the mystery? For now he was going to keep a good optic out for some sort of clue whilst in there.

Following the twins inside, they were escorted by the hotel staff into a fancy looking waiting room where a secretary sat behind a desk. She ushered Sunstreaker and Sunstreaker only into the office behind her, asking Jazz and Sideswipe to wait outside. Jazz was against leaving Sunstreaker alone, but the model insisted that he go in alone, promising Jazz that the Hotel manager was a trustworthy mech.

So they sat in the waiting room, just Jazz and Sideswipe with the secretary. Sideswipe sat in his usual huffy way whilst Jazz just relaxed and sat cross legged nearby. For a while it was quiet between them. Sideswipe would shift every now and then, looking out a window for bit before staring up st the ceiling. Jazz just lost himself in his thoughts, trying to add the pieces of this mystery together. What was do special about this hotel that Nightbeat made a note of it. Did something happen here? Was something going to happen? Whilst he pondered on these matters, he looked over at Sideswipe. He was a little puzzled as to why Sideswipe was out here and not in the office with the hotel manager, since the whole reason they came here was for Sideswipe to apply for a new job.

The silence continued until the sound of a comm unit went off. The secretary muttered a curse as he pulled out her personal comm unit and answered it. "What have I told you about calling me at work," she hissed at whoever called her. "Last time you called I almost-... What? Slow down a sec... what? WHAT? Are you serious? Oh Primus." She hung up on whoever called and looked at the two mech's. "Do you mind if I flip on the media channel?" she asked. Before either Jazz or Sideswipe could reply, she turned it on anyway.

The media bots were just finishing a report when the "breaking news" banner appeared on the screen. "This just in," stated the femme on the screen, "this morning it was announced that Tremor, the famous musician of the Towers, was found dead in a popular Celestial Spa on the lower south side of the city." As she spoke an image of the mech she spoke of appeared. Jazz instantly recognise the mech as the one who had been rude to him back at the spa. "According to an official statement made by the investigating enforcers, a fault in the steam room he was using resulted in his death. Already a large number of his fans have gathered to pay their respects. More on the scene..."

As the report continued, and the secretary seemed to find it all upsetting, Sideswipe uttered in a low voice, "good riddance."

Jazz heard that and he gave Sideswipe a foul look. "Hey I thought he was jerk, but that doesn't give anyone the excuse to say such things."

Sideswipe just glared back at Jazz without showing any remorse. "He deserved it," he spat, not caring that the secretary heard him.

"How d-dare you," she sobbed, "he was a wonderful and handsome mech. He organised charities for the sick and donated huge sums of shanix to those in need! Cybertron has lost a musical God and you dare say he "deserved" it!?"

Sideswipe snorted at her rant. "He's probably rusting in the pit right now," he cruelly teased.

Before Jazz could say anything, the secretary burst into tears and ran out the room, leaving the two mech's alone. Jazz gave Sideswipe a disappointed and disgusted look, but the red mech just ignored it. "What the hell is wrong with you," hissed Jazz.

"None of your business," snapped Sideswipe, shifting away from Jazz. He was hugging himself even tighter than before. "Stupid glitch should thank me."

"That guy's death really hit her hard kid," continued Jazz, leaning over towards him, "you didn't have to rub it in like that."

Sideswipe sneered at Jazz and shifted a little further away, his folded arms tightening their grip. "I hate people like her," he growled, "they care about someone so much they ignore all his flaws and hide them behind the only good things he ever did." He shifted until he was sitting at the edge of the couch. "I'm glad that fragger is dead," he declared.

Jazz was horrified at this kid's disregard for a lost life, even if the mech in question was a rude person that didn't give anyone the excuse to trample all over their death in such a horrible way. "You didn't even know the guy," snapped Jazz.

"Yes I did," hissed Sideswipe angrily, "he was a two faced glitched wired slag eater and he deserved to die."

"What gives you the right to say that?" barked Jazz, not caring how high he was raising his voice

"I have every right to say it!" cried Sideswipe, swinging around and glaring at bodyguard.

"No matter what he did in life, doesn't give you the right to mock his death!" bellowed Jazz, "what the frag did he ever do to you?"

"What the hell do you know! That fragger tried to-" Sideswipe stopped himself from finishing his sentence as he angrily glared at Jazz. For a moment he just sat there, staring at Jazz with such hate and malice it was almost scary. He didn't move an inch as he faced him, almost as if time had stopped moving for him.

Jazz was still angry at him, but he grew concerned at the unexpected silence. "Kid?"

Then without warning, large tears began to drip down from those angry blue optics. Sideswipe was starting to tremble and he bit his lip as he tried to hold a powerful force of emotions from getting out. Jazz had never seen the kid like this before and all of his anger was washed away with a wave of concern. He tried to reach for Sideswipe but the kid slapped his arm away and bolted out the room. Finding himself alone in the waiting room, Jazz leaned back sighed heavily, rubbing his weary brow. What the frag had he gotten himself into?

Before he could even think of what to do next, the door to the office opened and Sunstreaker walked out looking pleased with himself. He did appear surprised to see his brother wasn't present in the room. "Where is Sideswipe?" he asked, looking around the room.

Jazz sighed again and sat up. "Somethin' upset him and he took off," informed Jazz. He was a little surprised that Sunstreaker wasn't questioning the very loud argument that took place in here, so he guessed that the office was sound proof or something.

Sunstreaker looked at the television unit and sighed in annoyance. "Oh so it was him who died, was it?" he muttered whilst looking at the screen. "Well this is upsetting."

"Yeah, it is," replied Jazz in a quiet tone.

"I mean I'm going to have to appear at memorials for him," whined Sunstreaker, placing his hands on his hips, "they're probably already planning something like that for him. Primus damnit, this is going to set me back for a bit."

Jazz was horrified at Sunstreaker's attitude towards someone's death. "Someone dies and you only care how it'll effect you work?" Did these brothers not give a damn about death or something?

Sunstreaker huffed and turned the tv off. "Of course it's going to effect my work," he continued, "I'm going to have to go to his wake, take part in a shoot dedicated to his memory and all that other crap that comes along with it." Ignoring Jazz's look of utter shock he asked, "could you fetch Sideswipe for me? I need to introduce him to his new boss." 

Needing to take a walk, Jazz did as he was told and went off to seek out Sideswipe. Exiting the waiting room he walked down a long thin corridor until he reached the main lobby. It was very busy with guests standing around and stewards attending to their needs. Sideswipe was no where in sight so Jazz walked further on. Although he knew this was a golden opportunity to find out how this hotel was connected with Nightbeat's case, he could not help but wonder why Sideswipe suddenly burst into tears. He was in such a foul mood after leaving the spa and it only got worse when that dead celebrity came up. Sideswipe apparently knew him and disliked him a great deal, the question was what exactly happened between them.

As he walked down another hallway his comm unit went off. "S'up," he said after turning it on.

"Jazz sir?" came a familiar voice, "it's Strongarm reporting."

"Hey rookie," sighed Jazz, feeling somewhat happy to hear her cheerful voice, "what can I do for you?"

"How did it go with Knockout?" she asked.

"He's going to give me information in exchange for some other information," replied Jazz, "it's a long story but I am gettin' somewhere."

Strongarm seemed to be desperate to get something off her chassis, Jazz could hear her excited venting from his audio piece. "Well anyway, I was looking into those clues your friend left behind, and I think I connected a couple of dots," she explained, sounding proud of herself. "This took me a while to dig up but that hotel I was telling you about? The Heights? Every now and then they order a large number of spark flowers." Jazz recalled that spark flowers were also on the list of clues. "Anyway," continued Strongarm, "I asked a friend of mine who stayed there and she's never seen any spark flowers at the hotel. She also told me something interesting about the flower itself. It represents memory and death."

Jazz paused as he put all these pieces together. "So this hotel orders a bunch of morbid flowers for no reason?"

"It took me a while to find this order form," explained Strongarm, "but the Heights definitely order in these flowers. As to why and what they use them for, I have no clue. I'm going to have to get back to you on that." Jazz was also stumped. These flowers and the hotel were pieces to a puzzle he was having difficulty putting together, and he was still uncertain as to why Nightbeat made a note of them. "Maybe you can go to the hotel and check it out?" suggested Strongarm.

"I'm already here," replied Jazz, still looking around for Sideswipe.

"Really? Wow you move fast," giggled Strongarm, "so do you see any flowers?"

Jazz glanced around at the decorations. "Just crystal blooms and cyber blossoms, no spark flowers."

"They must keep them somewhere and they must be important if your friend recorded them in his journal," muttered Strongarm, sounding like she was trying to think a little too hard, "well I'll have a look at something else for you."

"Thanks rookie," sighed Jazz, "I appreciate it."

"Before you go, weren't you at that Celestial Spa this morning?" asked Strongarm, "the one where that accident happened?"

"I was," replied Jazz.

"Well, everyone else is calling it an accident, but when I informed Prowl about it he suddenly got really suspicious. I don't know why." Strongarm seemed to be enjoying herself, possibly because she was getting to work with Prowl. "He's been doing his own investigation into this mystery and I think he might have something for you."

As Strongarm continued to talk, Jazz passed by a large window that looked over a small garden. It was then that Jazz spotted a familiar red form sitting on a bench with his back to him. "Thanks for the input rookie," he said before hanging up on her.

Walking around until he found a door that lead into the garden Jazz cautiously approached Sideswipe, who was unaware of his presence. He was hunched over, sniffling and wiping his optics every now and then. Jazz could almost feel the angst that surrounded him, and it was heavy and suffocating. Not too long ago he ran off in a fit of angry tears, and Jazz could not deny that it was more concerning then it was frustrating. Taking he deep vent, he slowly walked round and sat on the opposite side of the bench.

Sideswipe jerked up and looked at him, his face still expressing his anger and his optics slightly puffy from dried up tears. "What do you want?" he muttered, wiping his optics even harder.

"Your brother is looking for you," answered Jazz, trying to sound gentle, "it looks like you got the job."

"Of course I did," snorted Sideswipe, "all he had to do was sweet talk the manager and I'm all set. No effort on my part. Like it always is."

It was quiet for a moment, just the sound of the cyber birds tweeting their tune. Sideswipe was desperately trying to tidy himself up, possibly because he hated it when someone looked at him while he was in such a state. Jazz sighed and pulled out his personal cleaning rag, offering it to the upset youth. Sideswipe looked at it for a moment, glanced at Jazz, then back to the rag. Without a word he took it from him and used it to clean up his face.

"So why are you sulking?" asked Jazz, trying to use a calm tone.

Sideswipe sniffled a little. "You wouldn't believe me," he huffed, "and even if you did you wouldn't care."

"I believed you before," reminded Jazz.

"This is different," muttered Sideswipe, "no matter who I told, they all sided with him because of how "wonderful and charismatic" he was."

Jazz thought for a moment. "Are you talkin' 'bout your brother?"

Sideswipe shook his head. "No, I'm talking about that rust eater, Tremor," he huffed, still wiping his face.

"You knew him right?" asked Jazz, "back at the spa you hid from him. Why was that?"

For a little while the only answer he got was a pitiful silence, until Sideswipe started to talk. "You may already know about this but I got into trouble for assaulting someone."

"Your brother right?" assumed Jazz. Sideswipe gave a Jazz a hurt glare, making him realise it wasn't Sunstreaker he was talking about. "Oh right, I was told you attacked another celebrity." Jazz recalled seeing that small detail in the file Platinum had shown him. "So it was Tremor you attacked?"

"It was self defence," huffed Sideswipe, "but he went around and told everyone I attacked him for no reason, and who did they end up believing? The popular celebrity, that's who. No one was going to believe a problem child."

Jazz was a bit lost. "Why would he attack you?" Sideswipe glared at him again, causing Jazz to raise his hands up in defence. "Just want to get all the facts."

Sideswipe huffed as he continued. "I used to be like that secretary, a die hard fan of Tremor the Lord of rock. I collected his albums, followed his blog, and went to his concerts when I could afford it. Some of the songs he wrote actually made me feel better about myself and I wanted to meet him so bad." Despite talking about what sounded like a decent memory, Sideswipe didn't appear to enjoy recalling it.

"So how did you end up meeting this guy?" asked Jazz, slightly curious about Sideswipe's tale.

"My brother," replied Sideswipe, "he knew I liked the guy and thanks to his model status he was able to set me up on a VIP tour with Tremor. I was so physced to meet him and nervous as hell. When the day came I just acted like a jittery fan in front of him, unable to get my words straight."

"Must have been cool to meet him," said Jazz.

"It was," sighed Sideswipe, "but the longer I was with him, the more I noticed how annoyed he seemed around me. Then out of the blue he asked me if I really was the Mortal Sol's twin." Sideswipe huffed again, kicking a nearby pebble. "Turned out he assumed I was going to look exactly like Sunstreaker, but I didn't and it pissed him off. He started muttering the Mortal Sol had set him up, not giving a crap if I heard him or not. I got a little depressed but at the time I was a little used to it."

"Used to it?" repeated Jazz.

Sideswipe didn't give Jazz an answer to that as he continued with his story. "The last part of the tour was the recording studio. It was cool to see it and all, but Tremor had other ideas." The expression on Sideswipe's face turned dark. "While I was looking round he started drinking. I guess he had a private mini bar or something stashed away in there. Before I realised it he drank five bottles of high neutron grade energon. He got all rude and insulted me for being the Mortal Sol's "ugly" twin. I got fed up and tried to leave." Sideswipe hugged himself a little. "He stopped me from leaving and pinned me to the floor. Said he was going to keep drinking until I looked hot enough. I panicked, grabbed the nearest bottle he dropped and smashed it across his face. Then I ran." Sideswipe looked even more depressed as the story took a dark turn. "When I got home the enforcers were waiting for me. Tremor convinced everyone I attacked him when he refused to sleep with me. They all bought it and I was labelled the bad guy."

As Sideswipe slumped forward a little, Jazz felt a wave of pity for the youth and he actually fought back the urge to pull him into a hug of comfort. He couldn't find the words to say, and even if he did he doubted that they would help. Anyone would turn around and accuse him of lying but Jazz just knew that this wasn't a lie. These emotions Sideswipe emitted were familiar to him for he himself almost had a similar experience and he knew what it was like to have no one believe him, only his ended up with a decent ending. "How did you avoid jail time?" he asked.

"I went to Sunstreaker and told him what really happened," continued Sideswipe, "I begged him to believe me... but he didn't. He didn't say anything, he just looked at me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. He then told me not to worry and that he'll take care of it. I think he sweet talked the authorities or something because I was given a light sentence." Sideswipe looked up, staring towards the sky. "That's my life in a nutshell, I screw up and Sunstreaker takes care of it for me. It sucks."

The silence returned and along with it an awkwardness that hung in the air. Jazz was struggling with what course of action to take. Sideswipe had revealed a secret about himself, a horrible secret. He wasn't sure why he told him any of this, since they weren't exactly getting along. It was possible that this was some sort of cry for help, that Sideswipe had gone on for so long whilst being treated like an outcast he was desperate for someone, anyone to take pity on him. He wasn't doing it intentionally, it was more subconsciously, but it was something Jazz couldn't ignore.

He shifted a little closer and tried to treat this delicate matter as carefully as he could. "I'm goin' to be upfront with you," he sighed, "nothing I'm goin' to say will change what happened to you. I still don't understand you, and you can be a right brat sometimes." Sideswipe glanced over at Jazz, unsure where he was going with this. "However," continued Jazz, "just because they treat you like the bad guy, don't mean you have to act like one."

Sideswipe huffed slightly. "I don't need a pity talk," he muttered.

"Kid," snapped Jazz, "I'm not givin' you pity, I'm givin' you some help. Right now you're just tryin' to cover up all the hate you accumulate over the years and use it as a shield. You're so convinced the that the world is out to get you, you treat everyone like an enemy before you even tried to get to know them. That isn't goin' to help you move forward at all."

These words were hitting something deep in Sideswipe, and he wasn't liking it. "W-what would you know?" he spat.

"Plenty," responded Jazz, using a stern voice, "yes what happened to you was a horrid experience, yes your life isn't goin' the way you want it, but it all happened in the past and clingin' to your past isn't what you need. If you keep goin' this way then you're lettin' those creeps win."

Sideswipe tried to argue back but he ran out of things to say. He looked like he wanted to run off, but something kept him glued to the bench. "Easy for you to say," he stuttered, "you have no idea-"

"Enough with excuses," snapped Jazz, "the excuses will never help." It was harsh but it was something that Sideswipe needed to hear. He seemed to be registering it all but he was trying to hide it. "I'm not expectin' you to do this right now or over night," continued Jazz, "it's goin' to take a bit of time, but you have to get over this for your own sake." He edged a bit closer and gently rested a hand upon Sideswipe's spiky helm, the action causing Sideswipe to flinch but not push it away. "So can you try and do this?" asked Jazz, "move forward and don't let the past control you. You're still young and I know you can do this, 'kay?"

The red youth looked up at Jazz with a stunned expression. This was the second time Jazz had a talk with him, only it seemed that this one had hit him hard and he was now finally registering it. His optics seemed alight as if he had finally emerged from the shadows of self loathing and pity he himself had cast. There was still some doubt left there but that was understandable, as it took time to free oneself from self inflicted torture. He played with his fingers and gently bit his lip, unsure of what to do or say. Was he thankful for the talk, or was this whole atmosphere just too much for him to handle? 

When it looked like Sideswipe was about to say something, a loud voice rang out through the garden. "Sideswipe! I've been looking for you!" The two mech's looked up to see Sunstreaker walking over towards them. Jazz removed his hand from Sideswipe's helm as the model drew closer. "Good news Sideswipe," chortled Sunstreaker, "you got the job. You now work as the Heights personal buffer attendant. Isn't that wonderful?" Sideswipe seemed to be having a hard time finding his voice. "Sideswipe, what is the matter with you?"

"O-oh, nothing," stammered Sideswipe. "So I'm a what-now?"

"A personal buffer attendant," repeated Sunstreaker, "it's sort of like your old job, only you get to work in far better conditions."

"Oh," replied Sideswipe, "cool, I guess."

Sunstreaker seemed to notice a distinct change in his brothers attitude. "Sideswipe are you feeling alright?" asked Sunstreaker, looking concerned for his brothers health.

"I'm fine," replied Sideswipe, talking calmly as he could so he wouldn't cause worry. "I just feel a little tired."

Sunstreaker still appeared concerned but clapped his hands together when he noticed someone approaching. "Oh here he is," he exclaimed, "Sideswipe, meet your new employer."

Both Jazz and Sideswipe looked up to see another mech approaching them. He was an odd looking mech, his frame bearing an animalistic primal like form. Jazz had seen bots like this before and this one reminded him of them. The mech was a silver coloured and the first thing Jazz noticed was that he had a pair of sharp audio fins that moved and twitched on their own. Instead of fingers he had long sharp talons that looked like they could scar anything without even trying. His face was a bit bizarre for his olfaction sensor was in the shape of a snout, and his teeth were in the form of fangs. His golden optics almost illuminated his face, making him appear mysterious and possibly dangerous. He didn't look like the type to run a hotel but Jazz didn't believe on judging someone solely on their appearance. 

As he stood before them he bowed gracefully. "It is good to see you Sideswipe," he said, his voice very smooth and somewhat alluring. "I'm looking forward to having you work at my establishment."

"Sideswipe, this is Steeljaw," announced Sunstreaker, "he owns a vast hotel chain but the Heights is his personal pride and joy."

Sideswipe stood up. "Nice to meet you," he replied, using an out of character voice.

Once again Sunstreaker noticed something off with his brother but Steeljaw merely chuckled at his sudden shyness. "You are almost what I was expecting. I assumed you were a little uncouth, but I guessed wrong. Ah well."

Jazz found that statement a little odd. They only shared a few words but it was almost as if Steeljaw knew Sideswipe but at the same time he didn't. Sideswipe didn't appear to know Steeljaw but the way the hotel manager looked at him suggested that they had met before. It was hard to explain but this meeting between the two just felt weird. Jazz chose to shrug it off.

"Allow me to escort you to where you'll be working," chuckled Steeljaw, ushering Sideswipe to follow him. 

"Jazz, we'll wait in the lobby," ordered Sunstreaker, already leaving the garden.

Sideswipe began to follow Steeljaw but suddenly paused. Jazz noticed but before he could say anything, the red mech turned around. He seemed to be embarrassed or nervous or possibly both, fiddling with his fingers as he had a hard time looking Jazz in the face.

"T-thanks," he blurted out before running off to catch up with Steeljaw.

Jazz was surprised with Sideswipe's sudden gratitude. He smiled a little as the red mech disappeared back inside. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

 

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It was dark when they returned to the Mortal Sol's estate. Sideswipe had been quiet throughout the whole trip whilst Sunstreaker praised his brother for getting a job in such a popular and luxury location. Jazz had wanted to say something to him but he looked deep in thought. Sideswipe immediately retired to his room as soon as they entered the estate, leaving Jazz and Sunstreaker alone in one of the living rooms.

"What a day," yawned Sunstreaker, "I'm going to have to retire early to make my photo shoot tomorrow morning."

"Will I be needed for that?" asked Jazz, hoping it would be a yes as he needed to figure out Sunstreaker's exact paint colour.

"They'll be doing tours so yes," replied Sunstreaker. Jazz nodded and was about to retire to his room when Sunstreaker stopped him. "A moment Jazz. What were you talking to my brother about?"

Jazz stopped and turned round, wondering how he should answer. For Sideswipe's sake he decided not to tell Sunstreaker what they really talked about. "We just talked about stuff," answered Jazz, "he was a bit stressed, so I figured I should give him a pep talk."

He was hoping that was that but Sunstreaker narrowed his optics at him. "He seemed upset earlier on. He didn't mention anything personal, did he?"

"No, not really," lied Jazz, who suddenly found he did not like the way Sunstreaker was looking at him. 

"Is that so?" muttered Sunstreaker, folding his arms. Jazz felt a little uncomfortable and was about to say something to get himself out of this when Sunstreaker's comm unit went off. The model sighed as he answered the call. "Hello? Oh it's you. What do you want?"

Sunstreaker walked off to continue the call in private, giving Jazz the chance to escape to his room. He sighed in relief, wondering why Sunstreaker took a sudden interest in what he and Sideswipe had talked about. Sideswipe was acting funny earlier on so maybe he had a good reason to suspect something. Hopefully he would forget all about this come tomorrow or maybe Sideswipe would explain it to him.

Entering his room Jazz slumped onto his bed and released an exhausted sigh. As he stared at the ceiling above him, he wondered how Sideswipe was doing. He had been unusually quiet after that chat at the hotel and it was a little worrying. Jazz was usually terrible at giving pep talks but it seemed to had worked on the kid. Jazz huffed as he recalled a moment in his life that almost destroyed it. Whilst training for the black ops, a fellow trainee from Iacon accused Jazz of an indecent act. During a party the Iacon trainee flirted with Jazz but he showed no interest towards her. Insulted by his rejection, she accused him of assaulting her and everyone believed her. For a whole week Jazz was treated like a perverted crook and was threatened of getting thrown out with his honers stripped. It was a dark period in his life for no one believed him.

Thankfully Prowl, who was training alongside Jazz, noticed something was off and brought in Nightbeat to help. It was the first time Jazz met him and Jazz recalled how he refused to accept the detective's help. However Nightbeat managed to prove that the Iacon trainee had lied using his incredible investigation skills. Although Jazz had been proven innocent the damage had been done, and Jazz became antisocial. He lashed out at everyone who had accused him in the past and even threatened them with violence. Instead of leaving him to wallow in his suffering, Nightbeat talked to him. At first Jazz refused to listen but Nightbeat refused to give up on him, telling him not to cling to his past.

"Heh, I guess you're rubbin' off on me buddy," chuckled Jazz.

Before he could fall asleep, his comm went off. "S'up?" he said as he answered it.

"Jazz, it's Prowl," came the familiar stoic voice, "how is the investigation going on your side?"

Jazz grunted as he sat up. "Well I met Knockout, the model on Nightbeat's list, and he's willin' to trade some information for some other information."

"Is that it?" huffed Prowl, "Primus, I got further than you. I was looking into this Brawl fellow on the list, and it turns out that Brawl was your predecessor."

Jazz sat up fully, his optics wide. "Brawl was Sunstreaker's old bodyguard?"

"Yes," replied Prowl, "he got fired for snooping in Sunstreaker's private quarters, possibly trying to find something personal to sell on the black market."

Jazz looked over at the large case he had pulled out from under the berth not so long ago. The other thing mentioned in Nightbeat's list was Brawl's case contents. If Brawl was the last bodyguard, then was this case his? Was this the large case what Nightbeat was on about in his list? "Hey Prowl, I got his case right here," said Jazz, kneeling down before the case.

"I was hoping it was there," sighed Prowl, "have you looked inside it yet?"

"I'm about to," huffed Jazz as he unclasped the locks.

"Put your visor on," ordered Prowl, "so I can check if you overlook something."

Jazz activated a special software that allowed Prowl to look through his visor, so despite being there by himself, Prowl was looking at what he was looking at. He uploaded it just in case he needed Prowl's optics. Opening the case Jazz looked in and was disappointed with what he saw. "It's empty," he huffed.

"I can see that," muttered Prowl, "but this is an unusual case."

"How so?" asked Jazz as he scanned the empty case.

"It's big," answered Prowl, "very big. Brawl himself was a large mech but there was no reason he needed a case this big. Also it appears to be heavily padded, possibly to protect the contents." As Prowl continued with his visual investigation, Jazz made his own assumptions. The case had a very faint sweet smell but whatever it was he had no clue. Prowl was right about one thing, this case was unusually big. What would anyone put in here? "Jazz I want you to get this case down to me so I can study it further," declared Prowl suddenly.

"What do you think it was used for?" asked Jazz as he closed the case.

"Until I conduct a throughout investigation on it, not entirely sure," replied Prowl, "I'll also find out where this Brawl fellow is so we can have a little chat."

"Alright, I'll have this sent down to you ASAP," said Jazz with a yawn, "oh by the way, the rookie mentioned that you found that thing that happened at the spa today a bit weird."

There was a moment of silence before Prowl answered. "I'll tell you later, but keep an optic out on that kid."

Before Jazz could ask what he meant by that, Prowl hung up on him. Jazz stood alone in his room, wondering what that was all about. Was he talking about Sideswipe? Why? He was going to have to call him back later and find out exactly what he meant. As he packed the case away a noise from outside his room put him on high alert. Sneaking over to his door, he peeked out into the dark hallway. Looking about, he spotted Sideswipe heading towards the estate's exit. Where was he going at this time of night? Jazz wanted to call out to him but chose not to. Sideswipe needed some time to himself so he let him go and returned to his room.

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The ally was dark and reeked of bitter oil stains. Turbo rats and disgusting vermin ran about, eating the decaying rubbish all around. Standing alone and surrounded by filth and vermin, a large mech leaned against the wall. He looked up and down the ally and then back to his personal chronosmeter. The one he was waiting for was running late.

"If he doesn't get here in the next five minutes, I'm giving this to-"

A shadow caught his attention and he looked up to see that the one he had been for had finally arrived, standing not too far from his location. A pair of ice cold optics were locked on him, sending chills up his back. He was shocked at first that he failed to notice the presence of the stranger but he refused to show any fear as he walked over to meet him. Still deep down he could not deny he was a little scared.

"About time you showed up," he spat, trying to be intimidating.

"Brawl," spoke the stranger, "what the hell do you want? I thought you would have drowned in the nearest bar by now."

Brawl snorted at the stranger. "Shut it," he bellowed, "I got some nasty evidence that I know the enforcers would love to get ahold of."

"Really?" sighed the stranger, appearing not to care.

"And unless you want it to end up in the hands of the nearest enforcer, I suggest you listen to my demands," hissed Brawl, trying to sound intimidating.

"Well where is it?" demanded the stranger, his blue optics glaring viciously at Brawl.

Brawl grinned as he reached into his sub space, but the grin faded when the item he was looking for wasn't in there. He reached deeper into his subspace, pulling out the crap that had built up inside, but no matter how far he dug he could not find the item he so desperately needed.

"I'm waiting Brawl," hissed the stranger.

Brawl began to panic. "I-I had it," he stammered, "I had it right here."

"You LOST it!?" shrieked the stranger, stepping forward.

"P-please wait," begged Brawl, stepping back. "I know where it is! Just let me-"

Before Brawl could try to explain, the stranger stepped forward with lightening speed and lunged a long sharp blade into Brawl's chassis. Brawl gasped, spluttering out energon blood from his mouth as the long sharp metal twisted in his insides, slicing through energon lines and cutting through his mechanical organs. Stumbling back from the fatal blow Brawl fell to the dirty floor beneath him, gasping as he choked on his own blood. His vision began to fade as the stranger stood above him, blood dripping from the blade in his hand.

"When you reach the pit, tell Tremor I said hello," laughed the stranger, watching as the large mech's life came to a pitiful end.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed a change in the title, and that was because someone was kind enough to inform me that I wrote the word wrong, thanks madhatt

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, mention of past murder, going through someone's belongings, talk of displaying corpses  
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With the sounds of the cameras clicking and the studio staff chattering, Jazz found that his headache was getting worse along with his mood. He didn't sleep well last night, and apparently neither did Sideswipe, as Sunstreaker begged Jazz to keep quiet back at the estate. Apparently the red mech was up late last night and Sunstreaker wanted him to catch up on his sleep. Yawning a little Jazz continued to watch Sunstreaker pose for the camera. It got boring quick, and shooing away the fans from the tours was just as annoying. He seriously wanted to punch some of them as they failed to heed his prior warnings and his foul mood was enough to scare some of them away. So far this morning was proving to be a very dull one, and Jazz was desperate for it to end.

There was one silver lining however, Jazz spotted where they kept Sunstreaker's paint. If he got the name of the paint from the tins he'd be able to trade the information from Knockout about Nightbeat. Unfortunately they were closely guarded and Jazz didn't want to risk getting too close in case someone grew suspicious of him. He just needed to get close enough so he could zoom in with his visor but with all the activity going on, it was proving difficult. Plus the guards were constantly getting in his way.

As the studio took a quick break, Sunstreaker trotted over to Jazz. "Jazz I need a favour," he said, smiling sweetly at the bodyguard, "the tours will finish soon, so could you go back and check on Sideswipe?"

Jazz raised an optic brow at this request. "Not to be rude or anythin' but I'm your bodyguard," sighed Jazz, "I'm not here to babysit your brother."

"Please," begged Sunstreaker, "he may not look like it but he gets ill really quick if he doesn't get a good nights rest. I just need you to make certain he's feeling alright."

Jazz sighed in annoyance. No wonder Sideswipe developed a foul mood with Sunstreaker treating him like a sparkling. "I'm certain he's fine," assured Jazz, "he's sleeping in ain't he?"

Sunstreaker pouted and folded his arms. "Oh c'mon, I'm just worried about him," he pleaded. "What if he's really sick and he can't get out of bed? What if he can't prepare his breakfast? What he falls out of his berth and hurts himself?"

He tried to ignore it but Sunstreaker gave him one of those looks where he could not deny him his request. "Alright, I'll check in on him after the tours," he huffed, giving in.

"Oh thank you Jazz," giggled Sunstreaker, "if there was no such thing as the no touch policy I'd hug you in an instant."

Jazz tried to smile but he was seriously annoyed. Why was Sunstreaker treating him like a common servant? Did all models treat their bodyguard's like servants? Whatever, he was actually wondering how Sideswipe was actually doing. He wondered where he went last night. After that chat they had yesterday he noticed a change in the red mech. Wether it was a good change or a bad one, he'd have to wait and see. 

Knowing he was going to have to leave soon, Jazz knew he had to get the name of that paint stat. He was about to sneak a little closer to the paint when a voice called out to him. "Ah if it isn't Jazz of Tygar Pax, you look so much better now." Jazz released a feral growl as the CEO of Pulchritudo INC suddenly appeared. "Good to see you've been protecting the Mortal Sol so well."

Forcing a smile as best he could, which was starting to get hard, Jazz turned to face the CEO and was a little surprised to see he had gotten his helm made of platinum. It looked awful of course but no one would dare say otherwise. Although he was curious as to how the hell he afforded that, given how expensive the metal was he chose to ignore it. "What can I do for you sir?" asked Jazz, trying to sound polite.

Platinum smirked as he chewed on a cygar, showing off his platinum teeth. "I'm just checking in on my favourite model," he chuckled, "he has graciously volunteered to host the memorial charity event for Tremor. Such a tragedy that was, the music industry lost such talent."

"Yeah," muttered Jazz, "it is." He hadn't forgotten what Sideswipe had told him about the late musician's true colours, but it was still a shame that a life had been lost in such an awful way.

"According to official reports he died within a steam room after it malfunctioned. From what I heard his face melted clean off," continued Platinum, seemly enjoying talking about the tragedy rather than treating it how it like one. "Anyway, before he does that the Mortal Sol has to promote our new Beauty Immortal scheme to the rest of the model community. I am so looking forward to that."

Jazz was quite curious about the Beauty Immortal for it was also on the list and this was a good opportunity to ask. "So what exactly is this Beauty Immoral thing 'bout anyway?" he asked, trying to be casual.

Platinum chuckled as he puffed on his cygar. "It is a wonderful new scheme that the CEO's of every model company in the Towers and myself came up with," he gloated. "Tell me Jazz, what do you think happens to a model when they die?"

"W-what?" That question came out of no where. "They... er... they die?"

Once again Platinum chuckled. "Yes, but WHAT happens to them? Once they're dead, what happens to their beautiful bodies?"

Jazz was completely bewildered by these odd questions. "They're either buried or sent to the smelter dependin' on their religion," he answered.

"Exactly," exclaimed Platinum, "their beautiful frames are just discarded, destroyed, all of their hard work to bring such beauty into the world is ruined. Beauty Immortal is going to fix that." Platinum chewed on his cygar as he rested upon a nearby chair. "You see, we're trying to get the models interested in this project. After we get the Mortal Sol to promote we offer our models a special contract, but of course it's non mandatory. Once they agree to it, upon their death their frames will be preserved for the rest of the world to see within the safety of a special facility, their beauty living on for all eternity. Obviously there will be a fee to pay to see them, and all profits will be used to keep the scheme going as well as every modelling company's who provide the the deceased models, but that's to be expected."

Jazz was sickened by this horrendous idea. He thought it was a joke at first, but it was painfully obvious it wasn't. "You're going to stick their dead bodies in a museum!?" he gagged. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Jazz's outburst caught the attention of a few bits in the studio, but it wasn't enough to distract them from their work. Platinum sighed, failing to see the disturbing side of this horrible idea. "I wouldn't describe it that way," he cackled, "think of it as a museum of preserved beauty."

"It's sounds more like a museum of corpses," stated Jazz bitterly. "Who in their right mind would agree to such a thing?"

"Oh don't make it sound like that," huffed Platinum, standing up and giving the bodyguard an amused look. "Besides we're not going to force them to join the scheme, but with the Mortal Sol as its spokesmech they'll all be dying to join." The way he laughed after saying that line was quite unsettling. "Now I must be off to inspect the other models," he mused, "keep protecting our fair Mortal Sol."

As he lumbered off, Jazz fought off the urge to purge his tanks. Were they seriously thinking of putting the corpses of models up in a museum? How could anyone think it was such a good idea? Surely the Council of Cybertronian Rights would put a stop to such an atrocious idea. This city was crazy and Jazz really wanted to get out of here fast. Still now that he knew the true nature of Beauty Immortal, he wondered why Nightbeat put it on the list. There was the obvious reason but what was Nightbeat's reason? This scheme hadn't kicked off yet but somehow Nightbeat had found out about it. What was so important about this scheme that Nightbeat had to record it in his journal? There had to be some reason why, other than how grotesque it sounded. He was going to have to share this info with Prowl and hopefully he had a good answer.

A sudden commotion broke him out of his thoughts and he looked over to see a guard wrestling with someone off the tour. "Please, I just want a sample," wailed the tourist. "Release that product at once!" demanded the guard.

Jazz then spotted that the tourist was grasping a can of Sunstreaker's paint and the guard was trying to snatch it back. Realising he had a golden opportunity he ran over and snatched the can of paint away from the tourist. "This ain't yours buddy," barked Jazz.

The tourist tried to snatch the can back, but Jazz pushed him back with little effort. The tourist fell to the floor followed by a couple of guards wrestling him down. They eventually dragged him out of the studio, his vain screams echoing all around but ignored. A staff member jogged up to Jazz, her concern on the can of paint he was holding. "May I have that back please," she politely demanded.

"Of course sweetspark," said Jazz with a smile. As he handed the can over to her, he stole a glance at the name printed on the can. Sunshine gold L266. Jazz blinked as those digits looked oddly familiar.

As the staff member secured the can of paint, Jazz quickly checked over Nightbeat's list and sure enough those digits were right there; L266. Was that what they meant? Sunstreaker's paint? Or was this just a bizarre coincidence? Jazz was getting confused. What the hell did Sunstreaker's paint have to do with any of this? He had all these pieces to this mystery but none of them made any sense at all, none of them were remotely connected other than the fact they were somehow connected to the Mortal Sol. He had a paint colour used by the Mortal Sol, the name of a fancy hotel, some horrible scheme to display corpses, the name of that doctor, some morbid flower, and an empty case belonging to Sunstreaker's old bodyguard. There were still so many pieces yet to uncover and Jazz needed to find them so this whole thing could start to make sense. Just what exactly was Nightbeat trying to uncover?

\------------------------------------------------------

With his mind in a mess attempting to understand these strange clues his friend left behind, as well as learning the truth behind Beauty Immortal, Jazz decided to return to the Mortal Sol's estate and check on Sideswipe as his employer requested. He wasn't getting anywhere at the moment, so until he got a hold of Prowl he was just going to have to puzzle on this whole thing a little longer. Also he was slightly concerned about the young mech since they hadn't spoken since the chat in the garden. Once inside the estate Jazz spotted some of the servants cleaning away and polishing everything in sight. They ignored his presence as they dusted and vacuumed, wiped and rearranged the furniture, putting so much effort into cleaning the already clean home of the Mortal Sol. How much did they get paid to keep this place in such a wonderful state. Heading towards Sideswipe's room, avoiding the servants and everything they just cleaned, Jazz could not help but admire the cleanliness of the estate but he also realised he had no idea where Sideswip's room was. He had to check the estate's map so he could find it and was surprised to find it wasn't that far from his room. Once he reached the door, not that surprised to find it was covered with "do not enter" and "keep out" signs, he gently knocked. Surprisingly he didn't get an answer.

"Sideswipe?" called Jazz. Still no answer.

Jazz sighed as he was left with no choice but to go in. He normally didn't like going into other mech's rooms but he knew Sunstreaker would be upset if he didn't check on his brother. Cautiously opening the door and peering inside, it was actually refreshing to see such a messy room. It was the exact same size as his, only it had a fancier design. The floor was covered with junk, the walls were smothered with intense posters, and it was cluttered with items that seemed pointless to have. There was also a faint smell in the air that wasn't exactly a stink but a clear sign that the windows needed to be open.

Spotting a berth in the far corner, Jazz crept over and he tried his best not to trip over or step in anything. He almost did and silently cursed as he walked into something he failed to notice. If Prowl were here, he'd faint and then get back up and clean this room no matter what. He couldn't help but smirk as he imagined the whole scene playing out. Reaching the berth at last, he found Sideswipe was fast asleep, tangled up in a blanket and gently venting. He didn't appear to be sick so it was obvious that Sunstreaker was overreacting.

"He's actually kinda cute when he sleeps," thought Jazz, admiring how peaceful the loud mech usually was.

Looking about he spotted a large shelf filled to the brim with data pads. That was a little surprising as Jazz didn't take Sideswipe for the reading type. He grew curious and had a look at what Sideswipe liked to read. It was almost alarming but amusing to find that a majority of them were romance novels. There were some combat history novels, a couple on the history of sword fighting and the Knights of Light and even one on how to cope with a celebrity in the family. It was interesting to see but Jazz spotted one that looked old and worn. Looking back at the sleeping mech, he tried to keep quiet as he pulled it out. 

"The Prisoner of the Dragon Tower?" Jazz recognised it as an old but popular sparklings berthtime story. It was the story of how a poor femme longed for love but could never find it no matter where she went. Then a Predacon fell for her and wanted to keep her all to himself, so he locked her away in a tower. The femme could not love the beast so the beast hid her from the rest of the world, isolating her so he was her only form of contact. Though many versions of the story bore a happy ending, this version was the original and it didn't exactly have a happy ending, as the poor femme died whilst trying to flee with a mech who tried to rescue her. 

Jazz was about to put it back when something fell from within it and landed near his feet. Looking down he found an old digital print. Picking it up he found himself looking at a couple of sparklings, sitting on a bench and smiling. He instantly recognised the two youths as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, Sunstreaker smiling sweetly and acting cute whilst Sideswipe bore a brash grin. Jazz smiled himself, finding it to be a sweet and pleasant picture to look at, perfectly capturing the innocence of youth. Putting it back in the novel, Jazz stepped away from the shelf and was about to leave when he spotted something hidden next to it.

"What's this?" he pondered, reaching for a long silver case. Jazz frowned as he studied it. "This isn't what I think it is, is it?"

Making certain Sideswipe was still was asleep he knelt down to investigate the case. Carefully unclasping the locks and opening the case he peered inside and his optics widened with shock when he saw what was inside. Before him was a long and dangerously sharp dark blade. Although it was a beautiful sword, Jazz was too horrified to admire it. At first he thought, and hoped, it was just a replica sword, but as he ran a finger along it he found to his horror that it was very real and very sharp. Jazz was shocked that the red mech had such a dangerous item in his room. What was he doing with a sword?

"Urgh... whos' at?"

Jazz looked over his shoulder to see Sideswipe was stirring from his slumber. The red mech's optics onlined slowly, focusing on Jazz as best he could, whilst his brain module was still in the process of waking up. When he was somewhat half awake, Sideswipe looked at Jazz and at what Jazz was holding. It took him a second to process what he was looking at and in a panic, Sideswipe gasped as he struggled to get out of his sheets, fell to the floor and scrambled over to where Jazz was.

"What are doing?" he shrieked, snatching the case away from Jazz and slamming it shut. "Why are you going through my things?"

Although Sideswipe had every right to be angry, Jazz was more concerned about the dangerous weapon he had. "What the hell are you doing with a sword kid?" hissed Jazz.

Sideswipe gulped as he hugged the case tight from where he knelt, trying to come up with an excuse. "This is... I-I... Oh Primus, don't tell Sunstreaker! Please don't tell him!"

"Answer my question," demanded Jazz. "Why do you have a sword? They aren't toys!"

Sideswipe was still half awake so he couldn't think of a good comeback. He gave up and explained. "I was always interested in swords," he confessed. "I always wanted to learn how to fight with an actual sword. When I was browsing in a weapon shop down at the base, I saw this limited edition fusion forged dark titanium sword and I just had to have it."

Jazz couldn't believe it. "You bought it on a whim!? You can't just buy a sword for that reason alone!" he snapped, "you need to go through extensive training before you can even think of ownin' a sword."

The red mech huffed as he clutched the case. "I can't sign up for sword fighting classes," he muttered, "Sunstreaker will never allow it."

Rubbing his face, Jazz tried to suppress a groan but it came out anyway. He fell onto his rear end, sitting across from the youth. "That doesn't mean you can just buy somethin' like this. It's even more dangerous since you don't know how to use it."

Sideswipe said nothing at first, but then he suddenly looked up at Jazz with bright optics. "Can you teach me?"

"What!?" gasped Jazz, not expecting that.

Sideswipe shuffled towards him, making Jazz crawl back a little. "You're an expert right? You can teach me can't you?"

Pulling himself back until he hit a wall, Jazz found himself trapped with a desperate young mech kneeling right in between his legs. "I don't have time to teach you," argued Jazz, "besides won't your brother figure out what you're up to?"

"I'll pay," pleaded Sideswipe, his optics widening with desperation. "Please, I've always wanted to learn how to fight with swords. Ever since I was little I dreamed about mastering the art of sword fighting. Sunstreaker would never allow me, but you can teach me in secret and he won't ever have to find out." Sideswipe widened his optics, almost looking like a turbofox pup. "Please?"

Jazz bit his lip. No one had ever asked him to teach them how to fight with swords before. He didn't think he was the teaching type, and on top of that if Sunstreaker found out he was teaching his brother something so dangerous he could lose his job. It was something he really couldn't afford to lose. He really wanted to say no, but he found he couldn't refuse that face. 

"You are aware that sword fightin' takes years to master, and you will end up getting hurt," said Jazz, wanting to be certain the kid knew what he was getting into. "it's not a game, it's a serious form of fightin' and it's not something to take lightly."

"I know all of that," replied Sideswipe, an enthusiastic smile on his face as he spoke about his passion, "it takes five hundred years to get a basic rank in the Circle, half a century after that to be allowed to use a blade in actual combat, and you have to learn the precise footing, the handling, every battle stance before you even get to practise with an actual blade and-"

"Ok I get it," sighed Jazz, "you know your stuff." Rubbing his hand over his face, Jazz hoped he wasn't going to regret this. "Alright fine," he huffed, giving in.

He was half expecting Sideswipe to scream his thanks, or jump up with joy, but much to Jazz's surprise the young mech suddenly reached up and hugged him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he squealed, suddenly excited about the agreement.

Jazz was a bit stunned from the surprise hug, founding he was slightly tempted to hug him back, but he quickly pulled the young mech away. "However," he said very loudly and sternly, "you're goin' to give me that sword for safe keepin'. Until you mastered how to use one, you ain't havin' this lyin' about."

Sideswipe didn't like the sound of that, but gave in rather quickly and handed the case over. "You promise you're going to teach me?" he asked sheepishly.

"Yes," answered Jazz, "as long as you stop goin' on about it." Standing back up and tucking the case under his arm. "Anyway, it's about time for you to get up and clean your room. If you want me to teach you how to fight, then I expect you to at least keep your personal space tidy."

"Seriously!?" moaned Sideswipe, not liking the sound of that.

Jazz was indeed serious, and sat down upon the messy berth, after giving it a quick clean. "The rest of this estate is as clean as whistle, those maid workin' their acts off to keep it that way, but your room looks like s junk pile. Start cleanin' or I'll change my mind," he ordered. "A clean room inspires a clean mind."

Huffing angrily the young mech jumped up and stamped a single foot. For a second Jazz thought he was going to throw a tantrum, however he did obey and started to clean his room, gathering all the junk and organising all of his possessions. Jazz watched and lost himself in his thoughts. Was this such a good idea? Teaching someone how to sword fight, especially one so young? It took him some time to learn how to fight, and at the time there was a war on, so time was a luxury he couldn't afford. He guess he could teach him some basic moves to get him started, and definitely some defensive manoeuvres. He was also going to have to find a place to train him, far away from his brother and those who might rat them out. Maybe down in the base, or in some unused studio.

Still he had never seen such a spark in anyone's optics. Usually Sideswipe's optics were full of spite or gloom whenever he looked at them, but when Jazz agreed to train him he was suddenly full of life. Now he was cleaning his room with such intensity it was almost inspiring. Hopefully this would actually be good for the young mech, giving him something to focus on rather than all that hate and misery he had a hard time letting go of. Now that he thought about it some more, he was actually looking forward to training him. He was going to have to get some training swords though, and hopefully it shouldn't be that hard to get a pair of those. He also wondered what Sideswipe would be like during training, and hoped he wouldn't be too impatient. He remembered what it was like to be impatient, until he finally learned to appreciate the value of patience.

"Hey... er... Jazz?" Jazz looked up to see Sideswipe had paused in his cleaning to talk with him, something was clearly on his mind. "Um, about yesterday?"

Jazz recalled what happened between the yesterday. "Yeah? What about it?"

Sideswipe shuffled his feet slightly. "Um... I just wanted to-... um... you... aw crap." The red mech seemed to be having difficulty getting the words out.

Jazz smirked and patted the space on the berth next to him. Sideswipe awkwardly sat down next to him, getting a little flustered. "What exactly are you tryin' to say?" asked Jazz, trying to sound casual.

"Um," stammered Sideswipe, "it's just... no one has ever listened to me before about, y'know my life and all, well someone who wasn't my brother, and told me all that stuff. Argh, I'm not good at this kinda thing." Sideswipe scratched his helm, trying to get his words in order.

"Take your time," said Jazz, knowing what Sideswipe was trying to say, just wondering why it was taking him so long to say it.

Sideswipe inhaled a deep vent before continuing. "I.. I just wanted to say... I'm really... grateful for the advice and all. Also I'm... nngh... sorry." He said that last bit in such a low voice, Jazz almost never heard it. "I just never had anyone, apart from my brother, treat me in such a way. I'm not used to getting help from strangers."

"Surely you had help when you were younger," asked Jazz, certain that Sideswipe was exaggerating. "Y'know, they call 'em friends?"

The red mech snorted. "Yeah, when I was little I was treated like an abomination," he muttered.

"Oh really?" retorted Jazz, still not convinced. "C'mon, I bet they treated you like any other kid."

"It's true," huffed Sideswipe, slumping forward and resting his head upon his bent arms, "I didn't even know what they had against me. The moment we went to that school I was instantly labelled as the rotten one for no reason." Jazz appeared confused with where this was going so Sideswipe explained in detail. "Y'know the first school you go to after you're sparked? The one me and and my brother went to was run by these cranky Primus worshippers. For some reason they treated Sunstreaker like a saint and they treated me like a pit spawn. All the other kids loved Sunstreaker too and I was always left in the dust."

Looking at that sad expression upon the youths face got Jazz's spark flickering a little. "Surely you had some friends?"

"Well Sunstreaker was always there for me," chuckled Sideswipe, "when nobody played with me, he was always there." Sideswipe then sat up and puffed his cheeks. "Well that's enough moping about that stupid school," he huffed, "so anyway, I- ...er what were talking about?"

Jazz wanted this miserable atmosphere to disappear too, so he merely grinned and slapped Sideswipe hard on the back. "We were discussin' about why it's takin' you so long to lean your room, otherwise I'd think twice about trainin' you."

Sideswipe jumped up and pouted angrily. "Oh come on!" he bellowed.

"You want to learn to fight? Then finish off your room," sniggered Jazz, leaning back a little. "It's still a mess. Don't think a little pity talk will get you out of it."

Sideswipe said nothing but rolled his optics and huffed loudly, before continuing with cleaning his room. Jazz watched as the red mech continued to clean out his mess. It was nice to see him not acting like a disrespectful little punk anymore, but he was still halfway stuck in that bitter shell he hid himself in for all this time. Give him a bit more time and he would break free of it fully. It was still worrying that he had such a dangerous weapon but at least he gave it up without a fuss.

After a couple of hours of constant cleaning Sideswipe had grown hungry, and Jazz realised that the red mech had never gotten any decent breakfast. His room was almost clean so Jazz made a deal with him that if it was clean by the end of the day, he'd start lessons tomorrow. Sideswipe agreed instantly and dashed off to fuel his empty tanks. Jazz returned to his own room to hide the sword, and to take a rest. There was still so much to think about, and he never got the chance to take a quick recharge.

However before he could relax, his comm went off again. Jazz groaned as he answered it. "What?" he moaned, not caring who it was.

"Jazz sir?" came the voice of Strongarm, "there is something I really need to tell you."

"Can it wait?" sighed Jazz, not feeling bothered.

"Oh but sir," whimpered Strongarm, "I was looking into Brawl, the Mortal Sol's old bodyguard, and some alarming news just came in!"

"Oh what? Got a job bodyguardin' some other prissy model?" huffed Jazz.

"No," sighed Strongarm, "he was found dead this morning."

\------------------------------------------------------

Although he enjoyed the common stench down in the base, Jazz wasn't here to get reacquainted with the simple life. Arriving at the entrance of a mouldy alleyway, Jazz found it was filled with enforcers and their blockade. Flashing lights illuminated the dark street, causing many to either avoid it or take an interest in what was happening. A couple of medics were leaving with something large and questionable in their transport, and some locals were trying to get a peek at what was happening. Jazz had to drink a few cups of ultra engex to stay awake for this since Prowl insisted he come down to have a look for some reason. All he knew was the it had something to do with the death of Brawl, the previous bodyguard for the Mortal Sol.

As he tried to walk through the enforcer barrier, one of the enforcers stepped forward to stop him. "Hey get out of here," barked the enforcer, "enforcer business only."

Jazz was about to have a go at him when someone stepped forward and calmly said, "stand down, he's with me."

Looking up Jazz found Prowl standing there with his usual expression. The enforcer made a loud yip sound, saluted and dashed off. Jazz smiled and waved at Prowl, who merely ushered him to follow him into the ally. "So the only time you wanna see me is when someone dies?" huffed Jazz, not wanting to be here.

"Aren't you the one who was always sensitive about death?" asked Prowl, his query almost sounding like a tease if not for his cold voice.

"Alright I get it," sighed Jazz, "just why did you need me to come down? You're the expert at investigatin' and all that." As they walked further in the ally, Jazz noticed how timid the enforcers got as Prowl walked past them. "Got 'em on a short leash?"

"Once I took over down here, I've been improving their work ethic," explained Prowl, "increased their patrol schedule and routes, introduced mandatory cleanliness, I had to give a presentation on how to file reports properly, and don't get me started on the state of their workplaces. I managed to decrease some of the crime rate down here, but there is still room for improvement."

Jazz actually found the energy to laugh at this. "I forget how wicked it is workin' for you," he snorted.

"You always work for me Jazz," stated Prowl, "I hope you haven't forgotten that whilst working up there, now let's get down to business." They arrived at a spot where an outline of a large mech was imprinted on the floor. "This is where Brawl was murdered."

"Forgive me for intruding sir," said a nearby enforcer, "but I think you're taking this a little too seriously. This looks like a simple bar fight gone wrong and-"

Prowl instantly raised his trademark metal cane at the enforcer, his glare wicked and unforgiving. "If this is how you treat every murder case down here, then no wonder hardly anyone respects the law enforcement. Now do your damn job or you'll be joining our deceased friend here and I'll have you written off as an unfortunate accident!" The enforcer almost shrieked and ran off.

Jazz gave Prowl a shocked look. "Harsh," he said.

"Please, I was going easy on him," muttered Prowl, "now get over here so we can get on with this, I haven't eaten all day." Jazz was so keen to retort to that but he couldn't be bothered. Prowl lead Jazz to a very well preserve crime scene, with hundreds of mini markers planted at key points or points that Prowl believed were important. Crime scene investigators were examining every nook and cranny, collecting every ounce of data they could, or hoping to find some to please the strict captain. Prowl clearly had them all working hard. One of the investigators was standing nearby, cringing when he spotted Prowl. "This is where it played out," explained Prowl.

"What played out?" asked a clueless Jazz.

Prowl sighed angrily as he explained. "Before he died, someone was in this ally with him for a short period of time before killing him. They obviously talked about something but that itself is confusing."

"H-how is it confusing sir?" asked a nearby investigator, troubled by what Prowl was assuming.

"Where the hell did you get your degree?" sneered Prowl, dismissing what the investigator had said, "anyway as I was saying, the reason I found it odd was because the death was planned."

"How'd you know it was planned?" asked Jazz, still confused.

"The culprit bought a lethal weapon with them, and I doubt it was for defence," explained Prowl.

Jazz sighed as he rubbed his aching helm. "Prowl, please start from the beginnin' 'cause none of this is makin' sense to me. You drag me down here to look at a crime scene and I don't even know why you need me here."

Prowl glared at Jazz before doing just that. "I was investigating Brawl while you were up there protecting that model. According to official reports, he was fired for snooping in the private quarters of the Mortal Sol and it was believed he did it to earn some extra shanix by selling some secrets or something stupid. I looked through his records and found he was getting paid ridiculous sums of shanix from an outside source."

That was a bit odd. "Bodyguards do get paid a lot, so unless he got greedy, why did he go creepin' into the Mortal Sol's private quarters?" pondered Jazz.

"Someone told him too," explained Prowl, "whilst under the employment of the Mortal Sol, he was also employed by someone else, who ordered him to look for something within the Mortal Sol's property."

"What was he looking for?" asked Jazz.

"Not sure," sighed Prowl, "but when he got fired, his secret employer lost interest in him too. Desperate he contacted someone to meet him here for an exchange."

"How do you know all this?" asked a bewildered Jazz.

"A couple of hours before his death, he made a call to someone," continued Prowl, "a witness in the bar round the corner heard him on a public comm, ordering someone to come meet him. Apparently he had something of interest to whoever he was calling."

Prowl then stood back up from where he had been kneeling, activating a special investigation optical unit he had on him. "He was standing there... the stance left behind by his thermal readings is suggesting he is both agitated and anxious. Someone approaches from the northern entrance... though faint the thermal footfalls suggest a deadly intent. Brawl also approaches, masking his fear with confidence. The sub space lint scattered here and there suggest he was digging through his sub space for something, but never found it. He stance changes; he's terrified. The one he contacted gets angry and steps forward and delivers an instant death."

As Prowl continued to deduce what had transpired in the ally, the rest of the crime scene investigators were watching him, completely in awe. Jazz had seen him do this before do it wasn't anything new. "What killed him?" asked Jazz.

"By the looks of the energon blood splatter and the wound found on his body, I'd have to concur that the murder weapon was a sword," replied Prowl.

Jazz felt a chill up his metal spine upon hearing that word. "A sword?" he repeated.

"Yes, most definitely a sword," stated Prowl.

For some reason Jazz instantly thought of the sword he confiscated off Sideswipe this morning. That sword was indeed dangerous and could kill someone if used correctly. Wait no, it couldn't have been for that sword was in pristine condition, it hadn't even been used. Then again Sideswipe did go out last night, but wherever he went was a mystery. Jazz couldn't believe he was actually thinking about Sideswipe being a possible culprit, it was clear his mind was still in some sort of tired state. Sideswipe may be a rude and uncouth brat on the mend, but he was definitely not a killer. Why was he even thinking such a thing?

"Jazz!?"

Jazz flinched when he found Prowl's face right in his. "W-what?"

Prowl rolled his optics. "As I was saying, I spoke with the owner of the bar where Brawl was last seen alive. When leaving the bar he bumped into someone. After downloading the security footage I believe our stalker friend is somehow involved." Prowl held up a small screen, playing footage of a crowded bar. Brawl was heading towards the exit and for a moment it looked like he bumped into an invisible wall, but upon closer inspection it was obvious he walked into someone who was invisible to the camera. "I spoke with the bar owner and a couple of patrons and they claim that Brawl had stumbled into some green mech before leaving. Sadly that was all I got from them."

Jazz recalled how someone had stalked him upon entering the Base to meet up with Prowl but he lost them before he had the chance to identify them. So he showed up again. "I'm guessin' he somehow swiped whatever Brawl had to offer that fella he called."

"A third party is involved," sighed Prowl, "but wether this has something to do with Nightbeat's case, I am uncertain."

"So to sum up, Brawl was workin' for someone else whilst workin' for the Mortal Sol, that someone told him to find somethin' the Mortal Sol had but he failed and got fired, he got desperate so I'm assumin' he had somethin' to blackmail whoever hired him, but our stalker stole it off him, he shows up to the meetin' point without it and gets killed." Jazz believed he was spot on and Prowl agreed with him. "You could have told me this over the comm," huffed Jazz.

"True," mused Prowl, "but there was something I had to discuss with you." Prowl dragged Jazz away from the rest of the investigators. "That thing that happened at the spa yesterday, that Tremor guy."

"What about it?" asked Jazz, wondering what on Cybertron that had to do with anything.

Prowl wiped his face before continuing. "They say it was an accident, but I know sabotage without even having to look."

"Sabotage?" Jazz was still confused.

"Oh come on Jazz," huffed Prowl, "a broken door and a malfunctioning steam room happening simultaneously? I had Strongarm collect data for me and I was correct; someone broke the lock and sabotaged the steam room equipment. They also did it in a way to make it look like a simple accident."

Was Prowl implying that Tremor had been murdered as well? It was tragic yes, but this just came out of no where. "What does this have to do with anything?" demanded Jazz, feeling overloaded with information.

Prowl rolled his optics. "Tell me Jazz, that twin the Mortal Sol has, the one with a crime record..."

Before Prowl could even finish, Jazz raised his hands and shook his head in denial. "Woah, woah, if you are implyin' what I think you're implyin' then you got that wrong."

"What?" snorted Prowl, "according to my sources that little punk had a valid reason to get rid of Tremor."

Jazz could not deny that after what Sideswipe told him. "Ok yeah, but that doesn't mean he did it."

"Wasn't he the last one on the steam rooms before the incident?" quiered Prowl.

"Y-yes," admitted Jazz, "but I've been talkin' with him, and despite his flaws he ain't a killer."

"Why are you defending him all of a sudden?" demanded Prowl, "I'm just looking at the obvious whilst gathering evidence from what Nightbeat left behind, and I found something rather interesting." Prowl then held up another data pad, similar to the one with Nightbeat's notes. "I uncovered some more destroyed data and spent hours trying to fix what I could, and look at what I found." Opening it, it revealed a single damaged page with a few words displayed. The first set of words read, "high risk," written in red and next to that was Sideswipe's name, written in capitals.

"High risk?" pondered Jazz, "that could mean anything."

"I wonder," said Prowl, not seeming to care what Jazz thought, "anyway he is on my list of suspects, so I want you to keep a optic on him."

"What list? What are you suspecting him for?" asked Jazz, getting very concerned all of a sudden.

Prowl seemed to be almost grinning as he said, "On my list of who possibly murdered Nightbeat."


	7. Chapter 7

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, drug mention  
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Sitting on the edge of his berth, Jazz was deep in thought. After Prowl revealed to him that he suspected Sideswipe being involved with Nightbeat's murder, he felt conflicted. He did indeed want to find the one who murdered his friend, but deep down he didn't believe that it was Sideswipe who did it. He was aware that he only knew him for a few days, yes he had s bit of a foul and violent nature before he arrived, but he knew that the kid couldn't be a killer. Yes there was some interesting evidence proving that Sideswipe could be a possible killer, especially with what happened with Tremor, but Jazz didn't believe that it was Sideswipe who committed the crime. He didn't even believe that Tremor was really murdered, though Prowl did make it sound convincing. Sideswipe just had to be innocent. At least that was what he told himself. He even double checked the sword he confiscated from Sideswipe to be certain, and he was relieved to find no trace of energon blood or damage.

He did share what he discovered with Prowl, who was also slightly stumped at the random pieces of information and also expressed his disgust at the true nature behind Beauty Immortal. Prowl did state however that Nightbeat was a genius at what he did, so there had to be something about these pieces of information that bound them together, other than the fact that most of them involved the Mortal Sol. Nightbeat's investigation had something to do with Mortal Sol, that they knew but what that was neither of them had a clue. They still weren't even sure who hired Nightbeat to conduct the investigation. Still stuck in the mystery, Prowl went back to his HQ in the Base to study Brawl's large case and try and figure out who had been stalking them. In the meantime, Jazz was to investigate the information Knockout had and see if he could find any other clues.

Prowl also had a look at that news article that was also mentioned in Nightbeat's list, though it took him some time since the article was over a few hundred centuries old, but Prowl was a bit stumped by this clue. Apparently the article mentioned was merely an advertisement for purchasing property located at the peaks of the Towers. The advertisement was still around today in updated issues so Prowl was trying to figure out what made this old advertisement so vital to the investigation. It was just the same as the updated ones, just older. All these clues and they were still getting no where. 

Needing some fresh air, Jazz stepped out onto his balcony and leaned against the rail to stare at the city before him. There was so much about this city he didn't understand but he had to if he was ever going to figure out what happened to his friend, he needed to understand it fast. Looking further down he spotted a balcony just slightly opposite his, still attached to the Mortal Sol's estate. He spotted Sideswipe upon it, still in the process of cleaning his room. He had organised most of his junk into boxes and was cleaning his belongings, his face tired but full of determination. Jazz could not help but smirk.

"He's really serious 'bout that trainin'," he chuckled.

It then suddenly dawned on Jazz that Sideswipe was really keen on how to sword fight. The fact that he was still cleaning out his room after Jazz told him to was proof enough. Prowl had him pinged for a possible murder suspect. What if during their training he could assess if the kid was really strong enough to physically wound someone. It took a lot of strength and skill to kill someone with a sword, so he figured if he gave Sideswipe a little warm up he'd be able to tell if he was capable of delivering a deadly strike.

Leaning over the rail slightly, he called out to him. "Hey kid," he yelled.

Sideswipe looked about until his gaze turned upwards. He waved a little, and Jazz was certain he saw a small smile upon his face. "I'm almost finished," he shouted, "I just have to-"

"Take a break on that for a moment and get up here," ordered Jazz.

Sideswipe appeared surprised by this sudden request but obeyed, quickly running back inside. Moments later he was at Jazz's door, unsure of what was going on. "What is it?" he asked.

Jazz ushered him to come out onto the balcony, the red mech trotting over. "I just want to see if you can handle a sword correctly," explained Jazz.

Sideswipe's optics suddenly lit up. "Really?" he squealed, getting awfully excited.

"Don't get too excited, this ain't a lesson," chuckled Jazz, "it's just to assess your strength. If you're goin' to learn how to use a sword, you need the strength to do it."

Regardless of what it was, Sideswipe was still excited. Jazz went over to a shelf he had in place and grabbed a couple of weighted training swords he bought whilst down at the Base. Sideswipe looked excited to see them, bouncing up and down on the spot. Jazz could not deny how adorable he looked whilst acting so giddy over a training sword.

"Ok, take a grip of the hilt," commanded Jazz, handing him a heavy training sword.

Sideswipe reached for the hilt, Jazz still taking the weight of it. Once he had his hands grasped around it, Jazz let go. Sideswipe immediately lost his balance, the training sword smacking onto the ground despite that he was still clinging it.

"It's heavy," he gasped, forcing himself to pick it up.

"All swords are heavy," informed Jazz, "now hold it properly." Sideswipe gasped as he did just that, using his strength to keep the blade up right. Jazz noticed his hands weren't grasping it properly. "You're handlin' it all wrong." He stepped forward and gently rearranged Sideswipe's hands, twisting his fingers the correct way. "Curl your hands inwards and relax your arms, it'll help you control it properly." Stepping back, Sideswipe appeared to have the correct hold on it, but still stood awkwardly. "Left foot forward, not too far. Keep your weight on the back leg but use your front leg to balance it all out." Sideswipe obeyed, sliding his left leg forward. He almost looked ready. "Ok, now give me a vertical slash."

"Right now?" gasped Sideswipe, still finding the training sword to be quite heavy. He was doing his best to wield it but it needed a lot more effort. 

Jazz nodded, ushering him to demonstrate a simple vertical slash. Sideswipe took in a deep vent as he raised the training sword, but as he did Jazz saw he was throwing his whole body into it. As Sideswipe slashed the blade through the air he stumbled forward, Jazz quickly stepping in to catch him. "You threw your whole body into it," sighed Jazz, his arm wrapped around Sideswipe's waist as he pulled him back up. "Use your arms and only your arms to make the strike. The rest of your body is to act as a counterweight."

Sideswipe seemed to be embarrassed as he returned to the stance from before. "Like this?" he said raising the blade a little too fast and too high. Sideswipe almost toppled backwards if Jazz had not been there to catch him. 

"Ok, I think I better show you," chuckled Jazz as he stared down at Sideswipe's upside down face. Pushing him back up gently and waiting for him to go back into the previous stance, Jazz stood behind him, bending down slightly to reach his height and leaning forward, wrapping his hands over Sideswipe. The red mech tensed up slightly at the close and awkward contact. "Now keepin' the weight on your back leg, raise the sword usin' only your arms." Guiding Sideswipe's hands, he raised the blade until the tip pointed up towards the heavens. Jazz noticed a slight tremble in Sideswipe's arms, meaning he never held so much weight before. "Ok, now a vertical slash, using only your arms. Don't let it hit the ground though, try to stop about halfway. Imagine there's an invisible fence before you and make sure the sword hits that fence but not cut through it."

Sideswipe repeated the attack, allowing Jazz's arms to guide him. It sliced through the air perfectly, only Sideswipe was still finding it a bit hard. He grunted as he attempted to stop the blade from hitting the ground, struggling to keep it in a stable position. As Jazz held onto him he now knew that Sideswipe couldn't attack anyone, his strength was far too weak. It wouldn't be enough to convince Prowl but it was a start at least.

"How did I do?" gasped Sideswipe, his legs slightly wobbly.

Jazz stood back up and took the training sword away from him. "You need to build up your upper body strength," explained Jazz, "but not too bad, for a first attempt." 

"Will I be able to learn how to use a sword?" asked Sideswipe desperately.

"I don't see it bein' an issue, but you have s lot of work to do," continued Jazz. 

Sideswipe seemed exhausted and wobbled over to Jazz's bed, slumping onto it. "So tired," he moaned.

"Oh don't give me that," huffed Jazz, "you barely did anythin'. That was a simple sword slash. I have to do a hundred of those every morning, every afternoon, and every night. Two hundred if I feel like it."

"I've been cleaning my room all night," said Sideswipe with a yawn, "it took longer than I thought."

"Oh," was all that Jazz could say, feeling slightly guilty. He didn't realise Sideswipe had been up all night cleaning his room. Was he really that eager to learn how to fight with a sword? Not wanting to disturb him too much, Jazz sat near the edge of the berth. "It's good that you are keen but don't overwork yourself kid," chortled Jazz.

"I was excited," sighed Sideswipe, rolling over to look up at him. "I really wanted to learn." He yawned a little and snuggled into the berth. "Do you remember when you caught me with your swords?"

"Yeah," replied Jazz, remembering when he found Sideswipe touching his swords after customs dropped them off.

"When they arrived here, I was the one who had to sign for them," sighed Sideswipe, his optics flickering slightly, "when Sunstreaker told me he was getting a new bodyguard, I thought it was going to be another lug head whose brains were in his fists and drank nothing but hypo engex shakes. I thought that was what you were when I first saw you, you just talked cooler. When I saw those cases, I realised that he had gotten someone who could sword fight, a real life sword fighter. Apart from the one I bought, I never saw a real sword up close. It was so cool to finally see one." The red mech seemed to be smiling as he lost himself in his memories. "I thought about asking you back then, if you could show me how to use a sword properly. I came up with do many ways to ask you... but..."

It was then at that moment Jazz realised why Sideswipe seemed upset that day after he had a go at him for touching his swords. He had wondered why Sideswipe didn't lash out at him like he normally did. The moment Sideswipe saw his swords, he saw an opportunity. He had wanted to ask Jazz to train him, even back then, even when they were at each other's throats, but Jazz was so angry with him after finding him with his swords that he lost his nerve. He gave up, losing hope that Jazz would ever to agree to train him. Was that why that plea came from out of the blue when he discovered that sword hidden in his room? Did his hope return in that instant? Jazz didn't want to think he was responsible for reigniting the spark in the young red mech, but the sense of pride he felt was just so rewarding.

"I'm glad I asked now," sighed Sideswipe, rolling into the sheets.

Jazz smiled a little, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction after hearing Sideswipe's story. He never thought that someone like him, a veteran from the war, could ever leave a positive impact on someone. He honestly thought that his advice would help Sideswipe eventually move on, not inspire hope. It felt nice in a strange way to inspire such hope.

"So you really think I talked cool?" asked Jazz slyly. His response was the sound of Sideswipe snoring.

Deciding it would be best to leave Sideswipe to rest for a bit, Jazz left his side and returned to his balcony to stare out into the city. He felt glad that he proved that Sideswipe couldn't have killed anyone with a sword, though it was only to convince himself.

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It took him some time to find it, but Jazz finally arrived at Knockout's clinic, a half hour before his appointment with the Divine Doctor. It was around one of the higher levels of the tower where the Vertigo modelling company had its HQ, and it was very stylish. It was nothing like any of the medical centres Jazz had visited in the past. Entering the lobby, he found a waiting room with a handful of models and aristocratic Cybertronians, sipping chilled energon from thin glasses, lounging on elegant furniture, and admiring the framed posters of Knockout's modelling career decorating the walls. It looked more like museum dedicated to the model medic, rather than a waiting room.

Heading over to the receptionist, Jazz found himself looking at a short mech, who also appeared to be glamorous. "I have an appointment with the Divine Doctor," announced Jazz, "it's Jazz of Tygar Pax."

The mech checked his notes and pointed over to an empty chair. Taking a seat, Jazz looked about as he waited, feeling out of place. Some of the other patients gave him dirty looks, clearly disgusted with his presence. It was obvious they didn't like the presence of someone so ordinary in a place where they believed it was theirs and theirs alone. Jazz couldn't stand being around such bots and he was tempted to get up and force his way to see Knockout. Thankfully he didn't have to wait long as his name rang out of the speakers. "Jazz of Tygar Pax, you're next. We hope you enjoy your visit and remember; Vertigo brings beauty to the next level." Getting up to head on over to Knockout's office, a few of the other bots who were waiting began to complain loudly, stating that they had been waiting far longer than the bodyguard. Jazz ignored them as he pushed opened the door and stepped into a large and extravagant med bay. He had never seen anything like it, with plush examination berths, high tech and over the top medical equipment. Breakdown was standing there with his normal threatening stance, glaring at Jazz with a single deadly optic. 

Knockout appeared from behind a screen wiping his hands clean, appearing to be overjoyed to see him. "Jazz, lovely to see you again. Have a seat."

Jazz looked down at a tiny chair before him. "I'll stand," he said.

"Whichever pleases you," chuckled Knockout, sitting down himself. "So... did you acquire what I asked for?"

Jazz nodded. "Are you goin' to keep your end of the bargain?" he demanded.

"Of course I will," chuckled Knockout, "on my word as a doctor."  
"I've been wonderin' 'bout that," pondered Jazz, "you're a model, but you're also a doctor? I thought models had this no touch policy thing goin' on."

Knockout smiled almost wickedly. "I was a doctor before I became a model," he explained, "Breakdown and I came here to start a business and one of my first patients was the manager for Vertigo modelling agency. He saw me and begged me to be a model for his company. The no touch policy really doesn't effect me." That made sense on some way. "Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

Jazz frowned, hoping that once he gave the medic this unusual piece of information, he himself will get what he needed to solve the mystery behind the death of his friend. He didn't exactly understand Knockout, but he could see there was at least some decency somewhere in him. "Alright, here it is," sighed Jazz, stepping a little close, but not too close as he didn't want Breakdown to get riled up. "It was called Sunshine Gold L266," he said.

"I knew it!" exclaimed Knockout, looking ecstatic after receiving the information he had longed for. "I assumed it was going to be that one or Liquid Sun R346. To think I nailed it down to two choices." He then skipped over to a blank wall, pushing a button to reveal a hidden notice board with a list of names scrawled over it, the names being the titles of models. Next to each name was the name of a paint. Knockout hummed a tune as he wrote the information Jazz gave him next to Sunstreaker's title.

"What exactly are you goin' to do with that info?" asked Jazz.

"I'm using it for my own personal pleasure," chuckled Knockout, hiding the board once more, "there is nothing more satisfying than knowing a secret from those who try to hide them. That and I use them for references."

Whatever. Jazz just wanted the information he was promised. "So tell me what you know about Nightbeat," demanded Jazz.

Knockout nodded, still ecstatic after receiving Sunstreaker's paint name. "Very well, let us start at the beginning," he mused. Trotting over to his chair, he snuggled into it and got comfy, pouring himself a glass of refined energon. "Let's see... It was over a month ago. I had just finished with a patient and was about to close up, when all of a sudden this dapper mech walks in."

"He wasn't that good looking," snarled Breakdown, looking jealous.

"He was dapper handsome Breakdown, you are rugged handsome," cooed Knockout. "Anyway, in he walks acting like he owned the place and he asked for me. I told him I was closed but he announced he was here for my private business and that he was a detective."

"Your legal drugs, right?" guessed Jazz.

Knockout huffed a little. "Ok so some of them are not exactly tolerated in Cybertronian law, but the rest are perfectly legal. So when he revealed he was aware of my operation, Breakdown tried to do him in."

Jazz stole a quick glance at the big blue mech. "Hey, I didn't kill 'em if that's what you're thinking," he hissed.

"No you didn't," agreed Knockout, "so whilst they were playing with each other, I demanded from him what his intentions were. He promised me that he wasn't here to expose me, he just wanted some information." Knockout took a sip of his energon. "Interesting fellow he was. When I asked him if he intended to have me arrested to cease my unlawful activities, he stated that even if he handed me over, there would always be others. Didn't think that all detectives acted like that, he must had been a realist."

Jazz almost growled as he slammed his fist on the table, causing the medic to flinch slightly at the unexpected violence. "You misinterpreted what he really meant," he stated, "Nightbeat was a firm believer in balance. Good could not exist without evil, darkness has no purpose without light, if there are wicked mech's than there are always good mech's. Even if we got rid of every lawbreaker today, another one will pop back the next day, there are always gonna be staints and sinners no matter what. It's the way the universe works" Jazz tried to recompose himself after that small rant. "Yes, it was his job to deal with lawbreakers like you, but he saw no reason to have you thrown in the slammer. Unless you killed someone or stole something, he didn't give a damn what you were up to."

Knockout appeared surprised by Jazz's outburst. "Interesting philosophy," he mused, "you two must had been close."

Jazz didn't want to get into it, regretting brining it up. "You were saying?" he said firmly, trying to get the conversation back on course.

Knockout smirked a little as he continued. "So we have a sit down and he said that his investigation lead him to me. I asked him how, as I was quite curious how someone was able to trace me." This was starting to prove interesting. "He said he acquired a sample of one of my drugs and managed to trace it back to me." Knockout giggled suddenly. "He said there were flakes of my unique frame colour within the compound. I did love it when he said it was unique."

"Did he mentioned where he got this sample from?" asked Jazz.

"Yes," replied Knockout, "he acquired it from some drunken idiot who left an establishment he was investigating, and no he didn't tell me the name of the establishment. He explained to me that he was looking for who bought the drugs off me and then who supplied them to certain individuals. I told him that I had a long list of clients so he simplified it for me, asking who is the one I supplied a large amount sleeping drugs and aphrodisiacs to?"

Sleeping drugs and aphrodisiacs? That was the sound of a troubling cocktail. "I'm guessin' that narrowed it down for you?" asked Jazz.

"Hardly," scoffed Knockout, "many bots come to me for sleeping pills and aphrodisiacs, but I did show him my order forms and one of the names caught his interest."

"What name?" demanded Jazz.

Knockout seemed to smirk as he said, "Thunderhoof."

Jazz was unfamiliar with that name, and the way Knockout said it implied that he should be aware who the owner of that name was. "Who is he?"

"A crime boss from down at the Base, who is in charge of a lot of gangs and can smuggle anyone or anything in and out of the Towers," explained Knockout, "I told your detective about him and he then asked me if Thunderhoof was connected with Steeljaw." Jazz remembered him, the manager of the Heights. "It was in fact Steeljaw who introduced me to Thunderhoof during a little holiday I took. He told me that I could make a killing if I produced drugs for him to sell to the poor wretches of the Base. So I did. I use the extra money to rent out this fabulous clinic."

"What exactly does Steeljaw have to do with this?" questioned Jazz, who had a feeling there was something shady about that beast like mech.

Knockout laughed out loud. "Oh come now," he cackled, "Steeljaw may act civil, but like everyone in the Towers he has his unique dark side. He owns a chain of hotels, music clubs and holiday resorts, all designed to look friendly and attractive, but somewhere within them there are dark secrets. There is also a rumour that he runs a unique underground club where-" he suddenly coughed awkwardly, "-you can engage yourself with your wildest fantasy. I've never seen it so I can't confirm its true, but I've heard many stories. His venues are perfect locations for him to sell chemicals, legal or illegal."

"I had a feelin' he was a silver tongued crook," sneered Jazz.

"For the record, his glossa is literally made out of silver," informed Knockout, "so to make it easier for you; I make the drugs, Thunderhoof delivers the drugs, and Steeljaw uses Thunderhoof to supply certain drugs to his customers and venues. It's a tad complicated but it's the way Steeljaw wanted it. I guess if he bought the drugs directly off me, his clients might catch on and come directly to me instead of him."

Jazz tried to think after learning all of this, it was all new information to add to the already troubling investigation. Was Nightbeat investigating Thunderhoof and his drugs? Or was it Steeljaw and his underground clubs? What did any of this have to do with the Mortal Sol? 

"Alright, so Nightbeat came to you to enquire about a crime boss and a hotel owner," confirmed Jazz, "did he happen to mention why?" 

Knockout thought about that for a moment. "I was quite curious so I did ask, but it wasn't exactly an answer."

"What did he say?" asked Jazz, hoping that whatever it was would help him figure out what Nightbeat was up to.

"He just said, "this case is still piping hot," whatever the heck that meant," sighed Knockout, sipping his energon wine. 

Piping hot? Piping hot. A light clicked inside Jazz's head upon realising exactly what that meant. "A cold case."

"A what?" questioned Knockout, looking puzzled for the phrase made no sense to him.

"A cold case," repeated Jazz, a grin spreading across his face, "Nightbeat was workin' on a cold case!" Jazz felt ecstatic. It wasn't a huge clue but it was still something a value in this bizarre mystery. He was now a step closer to finding out what happened to his friend, and after all that he went through so far it felt like a huge leap.

"What's a cold case?" demanded Knockout, still confused.

"It's a case based on a incident that happened a long time ago and never got solved," explained Jazz, "Nightbeat was trying to solve something that others gave up on, that is so like him."

Knockout didn't appear to be interested. "Well that's all I have for you I'm afraid," he said with a yawn."Now I have patients to deal with, so off you go."

Jazz thanked Knockout and headed to the exit but was stopped by Breakdown. "Word of advice," he said, "Thunderhoof can get real nasty if you trample on something you weren't supposed to."

Although he still thought Breakdown was a right piece of work, he took that warning to spark and left the clinic, he needed to call Prowl.

"So," sighed Knockout, "think he'll live?"

"I dunno," grunted Breakdown.

"Ah well," chuckled Knockout, "it was fun."

"Aren't you worried that this might ruin our business?" asked Breakdown.

"So what if it does?" cackled Knockout, "it will be worth it when that Mortal Sol slagger dies. Steeljaw himself told me it will be happening soon."

"Why didn't you tell him that?" asked Breakdown.

"He only asked what that detective was after," replied Knockout, still grinning, "he never asked if I knew who was going to wind up a casualty."

\------------------------------------------------------

"A cold case, was it?" After calling Prowl and telling him what he had learnt, the stoic mech also agreed with Jazz's conclusion. "Well it does narrow it down, but not a great deal. There are hundreds of cold cases in the Towers."

"Surely there are some related to Thunderhoof, Steeljaw, or the Mortal Sol?" asked Jazz, hoping that Prowl could dig up something promising.

"There are many regarding Thunderhoof, a few on Steeljaw, but nothing on the Mortal Sol," sighed Prowl, who had already checked. "And none of them have been looked at recently. All of them have been left untouched, no record of ever being looked at for hundred of years."

Jazz frowned upon learning this. "That means that Nightbeat never looked at those cases. It must have been another case." But what? They knew it was definitely a cold case but until they figured out who the cold case resolved around, they were still stuck at square one in their investigation.

"I'll keep looking on my end, and when you're free you and I will have to pay Thunderhoof a visit," said Prowl.

That sounded dangerous, but Jazz was eager to get into some action and having Prowl come along would make it all the more interesting. He had no idea what Thunderhoof was like, but he was like any other crime boss he met in the past, then he had to prepare for it. Checking his schedule, he grimaced at what he saw. 

"Well, I'm booked all day tomorrow and the next day," groaned Jazz. "That Beauty Immortal crap and that Tremor memorial thing." He also had a training session with Sideswipe after that, but kept that part quiet. 

"Then the day after that will do," suggested Prowl, "now if that is all I-"

"Wait a sec," blurted Jazz suddenly, wanting to tell Prowl something important. "I was sparrin' with the kid yesterday."

"Kid?" Prowl sounded confused and annoyed.

"Sideswipe," replied Jazz, "and I can tell you now that he lacks the strength to kill anyone with a sword. He could barely hold one up, and it's impossible for someone like him to strike a killin' blow like that."

Prowl was silent for a moment. "Why are you defending him?"

"What?" Jazz was only speaking his mind. "He's innocent Prowl. Sure he has s track record of minor crimes but-"

"Jazz, I wasn't accusing him of murdering Brawl, though it's still possible wether he lacks the strength or not, I was accusing him of murdering Nightbeat," explained Prowl. "The night he was killed, Sideswipe was in the same area of the city."

"That doesn't mean he did it," argued Jazz, "hundreds of bots are on that part of the city."

"Security footage shows that he crossed the same bridge Nightbeat fell from, moments before his death," stated Prowl.

Jazz felt his spark frizzle after hearing that. "He was there when Nightbeat died?" He didn't know that.

Prowl continued to explain. "Obviously I don't have the footage of Nightbeat's death, but Sideswipe crossed Dexter bridge and forty seconds later Nightbeat crossed it. Ten minutes later an anonymous call to the local authorities inform them of a dead body under the Dexter bridge."

As Prowl continued to talk of Nightbeat's final moments of life, Jazz felt a horrid feeling flickering within his spark. If this was all true, then did Sideswipe kill Nightbeat? Did he push him off the bridge? Why? If Sideswipe was the killer, why did he kill Nightbeat? Was there something the detective uncovered about him and when he was confronted he had no choice but to kill? Sideswipe's name was in Nightbeat's journal, but for what reason it was still unclear. There were still things that made no sense. Nightbeat would never confront someone he found guilty without someone present. It was partly for safety reasons, but also so that the detective could explain how he came to his conclusion. Nightbeat always loved to have an audience when solving a crime, and if it was a cold case then he'd want a bigger audience. Heck, he called up Prowl late one night along with Jazz just to invite them to the moment he cracked a case. There was also another matter, if Sideswipe was indeed present the night Nightbeat died, he might have seen something. He was a potential witness. It still felt wrong to paint him as a suspect, but Jazz just knew that the kid couldn't have murdered anyone. Tremor did come to mind, but maybe Prowl was wrong. Maybe it was just an accident and Sideswipe was in the wrong place at the wrong time. For now, he wanted to ask Sideswipe if he saw anything the night his friend was murdered.

"I'm goin' to ask him if he saw anythin' that night," declared Jazz, wanting to prove to Prowl that Sideswipe could still be innocent. "Maybe if he saw somethin' or heard somethin', we can't pin him as a suspect just yet. Trust me on this Prowl."

There was a long silence until he hear Prowl sigh. "Very well," huffed Prowl, "Primus, you are always soft on red mechs."

Jazz blushed a bright red. "W-what the heck is that supposed to mean!" he spluttered.

Prowl already hung up, leaving Jazz alone and a little embarrassed.


	8. Chapter 8

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, sword fight, waking someone up from nightmare  
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The Omega arena was both impressive and gigantic, and it was amazing that such a structure rested atop one of the shorter towers of the city. The weight of it should turn the tower it sat on into a crumbling mess, but there it stood like a galaxy among the stars. Jazz escorted Sunstreaker through the crowds of onlookers and reporters, safely getting him inside to a foyer filled with other models and their bodyguards. Giant adverts hovered about, displaying the words Beauty Immortal in bright glittering words. Next to them was another ad, "Tomorrow: Memorial for Tremor." Some models talked about the scheme, curious as to what it was about and others discussed Tremor. Jazz almost felt sorry for them and hoped that none of them would ever agree to such an outrageous idea. Sadly they all looked at Sunstreaker with admiration and envy, and Jazz just knew that they would follow the Mortal Sol no matter where he went.

Looking over at a nearby mezzanine high above them, he saw a group of high ranking bots including Platinum, drinking expensive energon wine and gorging themselves on ridiculously small snacks. Those must be the CEO's of all the modelling agencies of the Towers, all here to make certain their models became part of this scheme of theirs. Looking around some more he spotted Knockout and Breakdown over in the far corner and that Tracks with his outrageous bodyguard in another. It looked like they were all here, every single model in the city was here to become part of a horrible scheme. Sideswipe didn't come, he had to go to work and even if he wasn't working he made it very clear he didn't want to go. It was possible it had something to do with Tremor, or maybe something else entirely, who knew. Jazz was just thankful he wasn't here to learn what Beauty Immortal really was.

There was still time before the event kicked off and Sunstreaker chose to speak with a few models, who flocked to him like mindless drones. They all looked at him with such respect, almost afraid to even talk to him. Some were able to speak with him casually but there was still some respect for him in their tones. Jazz just stood by, trying not to listen to the petty things they spoke about.

"Oh Mortal Sol, you look fabulous as always. Have you changed your wax?" asked a short model.

"It's so kind of you to take charge of the memorial for Tremor, he would appreciate it," giggled a femme model.

"I hear that the CEO of Ecstasy Plus is trying to recruit some dancer at a nightclub, located down in the Base."

"They're clearly getting desperate, their sales have plummeted in the last quarter."

"I'm never going to that Celestial Spa again. Dying is one thing but I don't want my beautiful body to melt."

"Have you tried that new fragrance from Diamond products? I hear it's to die for."

"Does this new paint scheme make me look big?"

"Turquoise is the new blue I hear."

"I wish I was as beautiful as the Mortal Sol."

Jazz was convinced his brain module was malfunctioning with this mindless chatter going on around him. Surely these models had something better to do than talk about looking pretty all the time, there was more to life then looking beautiful for a bunch of strangers. Jazz gazed around the sea of models, unable to find any of them attractive. It wasn't that they over did it with their colourful frames, but their vain and egotistical personalities were so off putting that Jazz found them all to be repulsive. There were a handful who did seen genuinely decent but even they bore somewhat foul personas. If their fans ever found out what they were really like they might lose interest, or they would possibly ignore that flaw for the sake of drooling over their idols. Jazz couldn't stand any of it at all.

A few minutes passed and Platinum suddenly appeared, still looking smug and ridiculous with that platinum metal covering his helm. Next to him was another CEO, who appeared tall and sleek with a red and black glossy frame. Sunstreaker appeared to recognise her. "If is isn't the CEO of Ecstasy Plus," he announced, smiling in a professional, "how are you, Fuseburn?"

"Mortal Sol, it is good to see you," she said in a rich Praxian accent.

As they all exchanged greetings, Jazz could not help but notice how the way this Fuseburn was staring at Sunstreaker. She looked at him with intense optics, almost as if she was trying to devour him with her stare. Jazz could almost smell her lust for the yellow model, and it was s little creepy.

"Mortal Sol, I am so happy that you are representing the Beauty Immortal scheme," she said, brandishing a large grin. "Only you could promote such an ingenious idea."

Sunstreaker gave her his signature grin. "I am honoured that I was chosen out of everyone else. I should be thanking you for this golden opportunity."

Funny, Jazz was certain Sunstreaker mentioned that this was a terrible idea. He was probably lying to them on how he really felt about it. The CEO femme's optics widened with excitement for a second before she was excused herself. She left with Platinum, the pair talking about bookings or something. Jazz was just glad she was gone, for she was quite disturbing. He wondered if all the CEO's were like that.

The time finally arrived for the presentation to begin and all the models marched into the arena, whilst Sunstreaker was escorted to the stage entrance. The bodyguards were not required to go with them for every modelling company bought out their own security force, guarding the arena and the models. One of the bodyguard's mentioned it was because they didn't want them to ruin photo opportunities, and another one believed it was because they didn't want the bodyguards to know what the scheme was about. Jazz wasn't fussed but he did need to know every detail about Beauty Immortal. Platinum may had told him about it, but there was possibly more that he needed to know. He was going to have to sneak in somehow without getting caught.

"Maybe there's a backstage entrance somewhere," he pondered.

As he tried to think of a plan, a flash of green caught his attention. Looking over towards an ajar stage door, he just saw someone large and green walk by. The first thing that popped into Jazz's head was the stalker, the one who followed him through the Base and possibly stole something off the deceased Brawl. If it was him, what was he doing here? How did he get here? Jazz wasn't entirely certain if it was his stalker, but it was best to check it out. Making certain that none of the other bodyguards were watching, he slipped through the stage door. He found himself climbing a number of stairways and ladders, but he knew he was close. If it was indeed his stalker he had a few questions for him. 

Knowing Prowl would lecture him if he didn't, he sent him a ping. It didn't take long for him to answer. "What is it Jazz? I'm trying to teach these ingrates how to properly file paperwork. You don't want to know how they used to file them, if you even call it that."

"Prowl, this is more important than paperwork," huffed Jazz, almost certain he heard a gasp from the other end, "that green mech, the stalker from the Base, I'm certain I saw him here at the Omega arena."

"Are you certain?" asked Prowl, now sounding interested.

"I'm not a 100%, but I just know it's him," declared Jazz, still climbing ladders and stairs to reach his target.

"It will take too long for me to get there," grumbled Prowl, "I'll send someone over to assist you. Try and apprehend him, and don't kill him."

"For Primus sake Prowl, I ain't stupid," growled Jazz, hanging up.

He at last reached a long walkway, hanging over the arena. It was full of models and the hired security force, with Sunstreaker on the stage. Jazz was thankful that he didn't have a phobia of heights. He spotted the green mech a little further down the walkway. He was kneeling down and looking at the scene below them with a pair of binoculars. He was also talking to someone via a comm, but Jazz was too far away to hear what was being said. He clearly wasn't working for the security forces or was a stage technician, so his actions were clearly suspicious. Jazz had to make a move. Unfortunately there was no cover for him to hide, but the green mech had no place to run. He was cornered and Jazz knew he could take him.

Climbing on the walkway he slowly approached the green mech, who failed to notice him. Jazz drew a single sword. "Hey pal," he called, "didn't see your invite."

The green mech didn't seem alarmed that he had been found, slowly looking up at Jazz with amusement. "If it ain't the bodyguard," he chuckled, rising from where he knelt. "Had a feeling you might show up."

The green mech was buff looking as well as tall now that Jazz saw him up close. Apart from his vivid green colour, he had large hints of yellow here and there. Judging from his rugged and butch appearance he looked like a hardened combat veteran, especially when he pulled out a large sword. If this was indeed his stalker, then how was someone like this involved? Maybe he was hired muscle or something.

"Why have you been following me?" demanded Jazz, daring to step closer.

"Why not?" sneered the green mech, "you're a possible threat."

So he was the stalker. "How am I threat?" asked Jazz, "who are you working for?"

The green mech rolled his optics, seemingly growing bored with all the questions. "Look bodyguard," he chuckled, "all you need to know is that if you ever get in my way I'll end you. Of course you realise you are NOW in my way." He took a step forward, spinning the sword in his grip.

"Are you the one who killed Brawl?" barked Jazz, secretly and shamefully hoping that the green mech was indeed responsible for Brawl's demise.

The green mech snorted. "Maybe I am, maybe I ain't," he replied, raising his sword as he prepared to strike. "I'm on a tight schedule bodyguard, so let's get this over with."

In a split second he charge towards Jazz like a turbo bull. Jazz raised his sword into a defensive position just in time, the green mech's sword clanging against his, the screech of metal filling their audios. Pushing back against the blade with all his might, Jazz grunted as he pushed him back enough so he himself could jump back and raise his own blade. Sprinting towards the green mech, he attempted a horizontal strike but it was instantly blocked.

"I figured you were a war veteran," sneered the green mech, kicking Jazz back.

Jazz skidded along the walkway, nearly going over the edge. He stood himself back up, flexing his limbs. "You fancy me or somethin', cause you ain't my type greenie," he huffed. "Just how much do you know 'bout me?"

"Enough to know that you are a threat," declared the green mech, charging again.

Jazz was ready this time, his own sword meeting with his attackers. The loud clash of metal was loud but the spectators below could not hear it. Jazz continued to strike at the green mech, but he was just as skilled as him, blocking each strike with ease whilst attempting to strike back at him. Jazz was impressed, meaning he was going to have up his game. Once he had an opening he pulled out his second sword, whirling the blades with skill and ease. The green mech appeared impressed, even giving Jazz a smirk of approval. Still smiling wickedly he pulled out his own second blade, causing Jazz to actually sigh in annoyance.

"Why can't you guys ever lemme have it easy," he puffed, before charging towards him.

The air about them was filled with the sounds of slashing and clanging swords, sparks flying in between them, whilst the models below were blissfully unaware of the sword fight happening right above them. Jazz dodged and blocked every strike with grace and style, but the green mech was also skilfully avoiding every attack Jazz threw at him, much to his frustration. This guy was skilled, too skilled. As Jazz continued to fight against his foe, he could not help but wonder where this guy trained to become an experienced swordmech. 

"You fought in the war?" asked Jazz, blocking a strike that would have taken his head off.

"From beginning to end," replied the green mech, dodging a slash that could have cost him an arm.

"I gotta say, if you weren't tryin' to kill me, I'd be applaudin' your style," said Jazz with a grin, managing to graze the green mech across the chassis.

"And if you weren't trying to get in my way, I'd be complimenting your technique," grunted the green mech, managing to chip some metal skin off Jazz.

"Fancy tellin' me what you're doin' and who you're workin' for?" demanded Jazz, hoping the green mech might give him an answer.

"All you need to know is that you are in my way," snarled the green mech, "for all I know you could be working for him!"

Him? What was the green mech implying? Jazz knew he wasn't going to get anymore answers so he had no choice but to continue fighting him, hoping if he defeated him he might be more compliant to answer some questions. It might prove difficult seeng that this guy was a skilled swordsmech, but Jazz welcomed the challenge.

As their fight continued, the green mech's comm went off and a voice could be heard loud and clear. "Springer, fall back! I need you back here, there's been a development." The green mech cursed, possibly realising that Jazz had heard that.

"Springer, huh?" said Jazz with a grin, "nice name."

"Could say the same thing about you, Jazz," hissed the green mech, kicking Jazz back once more.

Jazz tumbled back, a little stumped how this guy knew him so well. Looking up he spotted Springer running over to a roof escape hatch. Jazz got up and followed, knowing if he got away now he could lose out on vital intel. Climbing the ladder he found himself on the broad roof of the arena, with the green mech still running towards the edge of the building. Jazz sprinted after him, refusing to allow him to get away.

Before either of them could reach the edge of the arena's roof, a loud bang echoed through the air. The two mechs stopped dead in their tracks, looking over to see a sturdy femme holding a blaster. "Freeze!" she demanded, "you are trespassing on private property and the law of the Towers demands you surrender immediately!"

He was sure how she got here so fast, but Jazz was thankful that Strongarm showed up in the nick of time. Sure she was a rookie, but she clearly knew how to use that firearm of hers. The green mech grunted in annoyance but still seemed confident for some reason. He looked back at Jazz, waving his hand at him in the form of a salute. Before Jazz could even figure out what he was up to, the green mech turned and leaped off the roof. Jazz gasped and ran over, Strongarm following. Peering over they both saw a green chopper flying down into the city, vanishing behind the tall buildings.

"He's flyer," gasped Strongarm, holstering her blaster. "I'll call the Enforcer seekers to intercept him."

"No," ordered Jazz.

"No?" gasped Strongarm, "but Prowl informed me he was a dangerous mech. He must be apprehended at once!"

"If we start hangin' wanted posters with his smug face, he'll lay low," explained Jazz, holstering his blades back into their sheaths. "We need to know what exactly he's after, so we'll back off and wait for his next move."

Strongarm sighed, looking disappointed. "I can access the citywide surveillance network-"

"Nope, he uses an optical scrambler," stated Jazz, "he won't show up no matter how hard you look."

The poor Enforcer slapped her helm, appearing disappointed with herself. "Argh, how am I supposed to track him down now? If I had shown up sooner, we might have caught him."

"Relax kid," reassured Jazz, patting her shoulder, "he would have flown off either way. At least I got his name. Don't suppose you got anything on your system about a Springer?"

Strongarm immediately accessed her personal computer. "This one is the best match," she declared, after scrolling down a long list, "he's a triple changer and an ex combat specialist, retired. Most of his personal information is unlisted. Prowl might be able to dig up more."

Jazz hoped so. "Alright, let's get down from here, it's a little chilly," he sighed, rotating and flexing his wrists. As they headed back to the escape ladder Jazz felt the need to ask, "how'd you get here so fast?"

The femme blushed furiously, biting her blue lips hard. "I was in... I w-was in the crowd of spectators down below," she confessed, "I couldn't resist, I really wanted to see the Glorious Behemoth and then I got a call from Prowl. I locked onto your location and I took an express elevator."

"Didn't think you were a fan of all this nonsense," snorted Jazz.

"Oh, I-I just like the Glorious Behemoth," stuttered Strongarm, "she's so beautiful and empowering and an inspiration for me. I only saw her for a second, but it was worth it." Climbing down the escape ladder and crossing the walkway, they proceeded down the stairs back to the ground floor. "I've been looking into your Nightbeat friend," she said, "I learnt that he spoke to a member in my department."

Jazz stopped and spun around. "Really?"

"Yes, I showed his photo around in the hopes someone would recognise him, and one of my colleagues said he spoke to him nearly a month ago. Apparently Nightbeat was asking about for the Mortal Sol's brother."

Jazz felt that twinge in his spark once again. Nightbeat went to an Enforcer station to ask for Sideswipe? "Did he mention why?" asked Jazz.

Strongarm sighed. "No, he just wanted to know where he worked so he could talk to him."

So Nightbeat had been attempting to contact Sideswipe? Did that mean it was possible that Sideswipe had spoken with the detective before he died? Although this was indeed a good clue, Jazz felt unusually saddened by this. Sideswipe's name had shown up twice now in this investigation, the first being the note in the journal labelling the red mech as a high risk, the second with Prowl accusing him of murdering Brawl, and now this one where Nightbeat had been trying to speak with him. What reason did Nightbeat had to speak with Sideswipe? What did Sideswipe had to do with any of this? Why did he feel odd whenever Sideswipe's name came up in this investigation. He knew he was going to have to ask the kid about this but what would Sideswipe tell him? Jazz sighed heavily, unsure why his spark suddenly felt heavy about all this. He knew the kid was a little rough and all, but he wasn't bad.

"Is that all you got?" he asked, hoping that she had something more to go on.

Strongarm shook her head. "I do not know this Sideswipe well enough, but since you're able to speak with him easily I suggest you talk with him about Nightbeat. He might know something."

He was going to have to. After climbing back down all those stairs and ladders they arrived at the lobby. Jazz peered out of the stage door and found that the presentation was still ongoing and the bodyguards were still waiting around for their models. Knowing they'd find Strongarm's presence would cause concern, he kept her hidden from sight. 

"Ok rookie, you gotta head back," informed Jazz.

Strongarm didn't move at first, instead she sighed and appeared upset. "Sir, I-... I am helping you, right?"

Jazz made a silent groan, realising that the Enforcer was starting to feel like a liability. He wasn't sure why for she had done a decent job helping him so far. Then again she wasn't exactly getting involved a great deal, and only acted when Prowl told her to.

"You've already helped me out before right?" he said, pulling a grin and trying to look friendly.

She nodded but still looked uncertain. "I just don't feel like I'm helping enough. All I do is sit in that crummy office, waiting for either you or Prowl to call."

Although this was what Prowl had intended her to do he did sympathise with her, knowing it might must be terrible to sit around in an office all day. The rookie needed action and she had hoped to get some, but right now she just looked through files and records for the sake of this personal investigation. That had to be something else she could do, something that would give her the action she craved but also kept her safe. She was still a young rookie and Jazz didn't want her to do something too dangerous. Thinking back to the list he remembered that there was one thing that neither he or Prowl could figure out. Incident 512. It was how the law documented their crimes, so it had to be from something else, something related to this mystery cold case Nightbeat was working on.

"Rook-... Strongarm," announced Jazz, "if you're up for it I do have somethin' you can do for me. It ain't much but it might have some field work involved."

Strongarm's face lit up. "Yes?" she said, with anticipation.

"Incident 512," explained Jazz, "me and Prowl have no clue what that is. It could be somethin' that happened in a modellin' company or some shop or somethin' completely different, I ain't sure. If you want to prove yourself to Prowl, try and solve this one thing thing he himself is havin' trouble solvin'."

He hoped she would take an interest in it, and from the look of her face she seemed a little excited. "Solving something not even Prowl could do?" Her optics seemed to glow as a dreamy look upon her face took over. "Imagine the praise I'll get. If I crack this he might see me as an equal." She looked back at Jazz with an enthusiastic smile. "I'll do it," she stated with glee.

"Just remember, it it leads to somethin' dangerous you'll let me and Prowl know," warned Jazz.

She nodded and promised she'd call them the moment she found something. Just as she excused herself to leave via the back door, Jazz noticed the models were now leaving the arena. He quickly walked out as the bodyguards reunited with their models, all who held pamphlets and appeared to be conflicted with their thoughts. Apparently the Beauty Immortal scheme had received mixed views, which didn't surprise Jazz. He spotted Sunstreaker being escorted out from the stage door and proceeded to go over and resume his duties. Sunstreaker's four armed agent and Glyph were present and they too seemed a little uncertain. 

"We only had 10% of what we predicted sign on," sighed Quadocular, rubbing his brow with one hand, "and already the press are saying its a questionable idea."

"No doubt the Cybertronian Rights group will use this to try and take it down," muttered Glyph.

"They won't because they agreed to it, as long as the models consent to it," explained Sunstreaker, "I'm more concern with those degenerates who will form protests and attempt to drown us in foul smelling paint."

"We should have increased security around you," suggested Quadocular.

"No need, my bodyguard will do," chuckled Sunstreaker, looking over at Jazz with an unexpected look of pride.

Jazz had a feeling his job was about to get a lot harder.

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Returning to the Mortal Sol's estate, Jazz had already heard via the news how the rest of the world thought about the Beauty Immortal scheme, and like him many thought it was a horrible idea. The citizens of Iacon thought it went against the teachings of Primus, the people of Kaon were shocked, Crystal City were repulsed, but some of the cities had other thoughts. A vast majority of the Towers thought it was an awful idea, but there was a minority who believed it was a good idea and that minority was slowly starting to grow. Some models were interviewed and it was not so surprising that all the models from Pulchritudo INC all said it was a decent idea. Models from other companies seemed a little uncertain though most seemed alright with the idea. Sunstreaker didn't seem to care at all, stating that he still thought it was a terrible idea to begin with. It made Jazz wonder why he agreed to do it in the first place. 

"Argh, I'm going to need to lie down after all that," growled Sunstreaker, massaging his brow.

"We'll call your massage therapist," suggested Quadocular, escorting Sunstreaker further into the estate whilst Glyph made a call.

Finding himself alone, Jazz decided he had to go have a chat with Sideswipe. He hoped that the kid was home for he wasn't certain if he returned from his new job. Apparently Sideswipe worked an unusual schedule, sometimes working early in the morning, or the afternoon, and sometimes he had to work all through the night. Sometimes he didn't need to go at all, but he was always tired when he returned home. Jazz didn't like the idea of disturbing him but he just had to ask him about Nightbeat.

Knocking gently upon his door he didn't get an answer, and he figured that silence as going to be his answer. He should just walk off and ask him again when he was awake, but his need to know how Sideswipe knew Nightbeat was overpowering. Opening the door carefully, he peered in and spotted Sideswipe deep in recharge. Although one part of him was saying to leave the kid alone, the other part nagged at him to wake him up and ask about Nightbeat. He crept over and peered down at him, still thinking he was adorable when he was asleep. Though now that he looked at him, he didn't appear comfortable. He had his arms folded round his chassis, his legs twitching slightly and his optic lids were shivering. Every now and then he'd make a low groan and he would grimace slightly. It was obvious he was having a bad dream, which was a good excuse to wake him up.

Carefully nudging Sideswipe, he called out to him. "Sideswipe? Sideswipe? Time to wake up."

Sideswipe groaned again and trembled a bit, his bad dream seemed to be intensifying. He shook him again, a little harsher this time as he believed that the kid needed to wake up. "C'mon kid," he said a little louder, "I need you to-"

Without warning Sideswipe's optics flashed open with a gasp and with incredible force the red mech landed a fist against Jazz's jaw. Jazz cried out with pain from the sudden attack and stumbled backwards, almost certain he heard something snap inside his head. Landing aft first on the floor, Jazz hissed as he massaged his swollen jaw, not sure if he should be angry, impressed or feeling stupid for attempting to wake up Sideswipe when he was having a nightmare.

Sideswipe was now sitting up wide awake, looking around as if he was trying to figure out where he was. Once his brain module came online fully, he looked down at Jazz and gasped. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, hopping off his berth to see what damage he caused. "What happened? Why are you on the floor?"

"Is that how you normally wake up?" groaned Jazz, still feeling the pain, "punchin' someone's lights out?"

It quickly dawned on Sideswipe what had happened and what he had done. "I'm sorry," stammered Sideswipe, looking incredibly guilty with himself, "I'll get a first aid kit or something."

"Just get me a frozen canister of energon," huffed Jazz.

Sideswipe stumbled out of his room, disappearing for a moment before returning with a couple of frozen energon canisters. Jazz was now feeling a little angry, snatching one of the cans away from the kid and pressing it up against his face. 

Sideswipe sat next to him, still looking guilty as sin. "I didn't mean to hit you," he stammered, "I thought you were someone else."

Jazz stared at Sideswipe with a puzzled face. "Who else were you expectin' to be here when you woke up? A sparkeater?"

Sideswipe opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He suddenly looked a little embarrassed and uneasy. "I think they started after the whole thing with Tremor," he sighed.

"What started?" asked Jazz, his attitude changing to a slightly concerned one.

The red mech avoided optic with Jazz for a moment before looking back at him, biting his lips a little. "Do you ever have those nightmares where you can't move?" Jazz knew the type he meant, a dream where one is rendered motionless, trapped within their own bodies whilst horrific things happened around them. Sideswipe continued to explain. "In my dreams I'm lying on my berth, staring up at the ceiling and somebody crawls on top of me. I get scared and try to push them off but I can't move." Sideswipe shivered a little. "They are the weirdest dreams I ever have."

Ok, the kid did seem to have a good excuse for smacking him in the face, so Jazz decided to let him off. "Did you talk to your brother 'bout these nightmares?"

Sideswipe then looked embarrassed. "I would tell him, if he wasn't in them."

"Wait, he's in your dreams?" Jazz wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Yeah, right at the start he's floating above me and just staring down at me," Sideswipe scratched his helm, "I think it's because he's always watching over me or something?" he guessed.

Jazz sighed as he pulled the canister away from his face and opened it. Gulping down the contents he could not help but think what a softy he was. He came here with the intention of asking Sideswipe if he knew Nightbeat, but he became too concerned with Sideswipe's problem. He couldn't ask him now, not after that awkward talk about his traumatising nightmares. He was going to have to ask him during something casual, during a time when he'd be able to mention Nightbeat's name. As he consumed the beverage he spotted a Knights of the Circle poster on a nearby wall. He then got an idea.

"Hey kid," he said, "feelin' up for some midnight trainin'?"


	9. Chapter 9

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, sword fight training, mention of past rape attempt, wishing rape upon someone  
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Although he couldn't see that many stars above them due to the bright city lights, Jazz found that this was a lovely night to be in the Towers Hovering Garden, THG for short, a large park that practically hovered in the mid levels of the city. Knowing that Sunstreaker was fast asleep after that intense massage he had, Jazz had snuck out with Sideswipe to conduct some secret sword training. Sunstreaker was in no danger being left alone in the estate, and Jazz recently found out that the tower they lived it was patrolled by flying security guards. Sideswipe was rather excited to finally get started and he seemed to enjoy the whole sneaking out thing. Turned out that Sideswipe had a curfew enforced by Sunstreaker, meaning he had to be home at a certain time unless he was working. Sideswipe confessed he snuck out before to go to clubs and music venues but now that he was doing it with someone else he found it to be a little more thrilling. Jazz just told him to stop sneaking out unless it was with him or else his brother would worry.

They walked further in the park, past the glowing onyx trees and crystal flowers until they reached a place designed for fitness enthusiasts, with a running track, exercise equipment and engex fountains. It was the perfect place for outdoor fitness and Jazz recalled seeing it when he was in the shuttle taking him to Knockout's clinic. It was deserted now, except for some prowling turbofoxes, which was a little surprising as Jazz thought there would be other bots in this vast city who liked to train in the dead of night. No matter, it meant he could focus on training Sideswipe without anyone disturbing them, plus the peace and quiet was a bonus. Sideswipe himself looked quite giddy, bouncing upon the heels of his feet with his arms shaking with eager delight. He behaved and kept quiet as Jazz unpacked the training swords from a special case he bought, though his grin did seem to widen by the second and for a second it looked like he had stars in his optics. 

Jazz placed the training swords to one side and stood up to face Sideswipe. "Alright kid, time for some trainin', you ready?" Sideswipe nodded furiously. "Ok, we'll start with a warm up." Jazz pointed over to the track. "Two laps around that should do."

"No problem," boasted Sideswipe, suddenly converting into his vehicle mode.

"No wheels," ordered Jazz, giving Sideswipe a gentle kick prompting him to convert back to his bipedal mode. "I want you to use those legs."

Sideswipe groaned at the idea of running the full track on his legs but he did as he was told. He lightly jogged around the track at a steady pace. Every now and then Jazz would order him to do something different, like running backwards, hopping, skipping, sidesteps, and high jumps with every four step. Sideswipe would curse and grunt as he stumbled over himself but completed the warm up, jogging back over to Jazz whilst venting heavily. Unfortunately he wasn't quite done as Jazz then ordered him to run to certain obstacles and then sprint back. After a few of those he had the red mech do some strenuous exercises, all designed to make use of every hydraulic muscle in his body. After about ten minutes of nothing but warm ups Sideswipe already looked worn out, steam lightly rising from his frame.

"Feelin' alright?" asked Jazz, wondering if Sideswipe was ready to call it quits.

The red mech shook his head. "N-nope," he gasped, "still pumped."

"Alright then," chuckled Jazz, "now stretch yourself off before we begin."

It took Sideswipe a moment to catch his breath before standing up and stretched his arms and legs, groaning as his metal exo-skeleton clicked and popped as he moved. Jazz had to demonstrate a few stretches that Sideswipe didn't know, and even had to step in to assist him in completing some of them, one of them being for his back. With his warm up and stretches finally out of the way, it was now time for the training. Grabbing one of the training swords, Jazz stood upon a stable bit of ground so he could show Sideswipe what he was going to teach him.

"Alright, there is always a borin' part to every trainin' session," explained Jazz, testing the weight of the sword with a slash. "In this lesson you're gonna learn how to adopt the correct stance." It was the most boring part of the training but it was also vital. Sideswipe watched as Jazz moved into position. "For now this is what you're goin' to learn."

Bending his legs slightly, pushing one leg out in front of him, he adopted the basic fighting stance that all beginners had to master before they could learn anything else. It was dull as he moved back and forth, explaining the reasons why his legs had to be that way and his arms had to be sticking out. Sideswipe watched with impressive interest, even attempting to copy the moves himself. Jazz gave Sideswipe the training sword and instructed him on how to handle the training sword. He stood awkwardly at first so Jazz manually arranged him, bending his arms to the correct angle, twisting his hips so his legs were positioned better, and raised his head a little. Sideswipe had to repeat the move a few times before he got it almost right.

"You have to practise every now and then so your body will remember and get used to it," explained Jazz, "now we'll do it whilst swingin' the sword."

Jazz demonstrated how to do it, explaining the movements in perfect detail. Sideswipe copied, a little off at first but he slowly got the hang of it.

Sideswipe was enjoying it but he didn't seem to like the silence between them and decided to ask Jazz some questions. "So why did you want to become a swordsmech?"

That brought some memories back for Jazz. "You're gonna laugh," he snorted.

"It can't be that embarrassing," said Sideswipe with a snigger.

He warned him. "Well, when I was little I used to watch this show called "Knights of Light Adventures" and one of the Knights on the show wielded two swords and was a total badaft," lamented Jazz, thinking back to his days as a sparkling. "I wanted to grow up to be just like him, kill the bad guys and savin' folks. That was my earliest memory of my love for swordfightin'."

As Jazz predicted Sideswipe could not help but snort with laughter. "A cartoon made you want to be a swordsmech," he chortled, almost throwing himself off balance.

"Oh and what was your reason?" asked Jazz, pausing to get Sideswipe back in the correct pose.

Sideswipe thought for a moment. "Back at my first school there was a book I loved to read, I think it was about a knight going on a quest to save a town from a Predacon, can't remember the title." Sideswipe smiled a little as the nostalgia made his mood light up a little. "I used to pretend I was that knight, running around the garden waving a sword I made out of an onyx tree branches, and this space slug was a Predacon. I think that's why I wanted to be a swordsmech."

"A book made you want to be a swordsmech?" chuckled Jazz.

"Hey, at least I read about it," scoffed Sideswipe, "you watched a cartoon."

Jazz rolled his optics with a uncaring smile. "You do like to read a lot, don't you?" he suddenly asked.

"A little, I guess," muttered Sideswipe, trying to focus on his sword swinging.

"A little?" snorted Jazz, "I saw over three hundred data novels on romance in your room."

Sideswipe instantly halted his sword swinging, dropping the training sword and his face turning bright red. He stared at Jazz, unable to say anything at first. "M-my novels?" he finally squeaked, "you saw them?"

Jazz grinned as he nodded. "Romance novels are your thing, huh?"

The red mech continued to look embarrassed as he scrambled to pick up the training sword. "I-I like to read them, yeah," he confessed, "no other reason."

Jazz wasn't certain why but he had a feeling there was some interesting reason why Sideswipe was so fascinated with romance novels. He ignored it for now to continue the training and to help the red mech focus. Teaching Sideswipe to hold the sword correctly whilst swinging it at different angles was a little easy, and Sideswipe was slowly getting the hang of it.

"Did you ever fight anyone?" asked Sideswipe suddenly.

He was going to have to be careful here, as everyone here was aware he came out of a bodyguard adcademy, and was never in the war. "A few times when someone gave me and my client trouble." By client, Jazz was referring to Kup, a war hardened sergeant who he worked with back during the war. "Everyone was out to get that guy, and it was tough keepin' him safe."

"Did you lose any fights?" asked the now curious Sideswipe.

"A couple," admitted Jazz.

"What happened to your client?" gasped Sideswipe.

"He ended up savin' me," laughed Jazz, recalling how he almost got eaten alive by a sparkeater only for Kup to literally bash its brains in.

"Guess you started off as a lousy bodyguard," snickered Sideswipe, "er, no offence."

"No, I was a bit of a green horn," chuckled Jazz, "but as the battles waged on I gained experience."

"Battles?" Sideswipe seemed confused.

"Oh, er, like I said a lot of bad mech's were out to get my client," corrected Jazz, "he had quite a few enemies."

Sideswipe didn't appear to notice something was off and continued with his training. "If you dreamed of becoming a swordsmech, why did you decide to become a bodyguard?"

Damn the kid was inquisitive today. "I thought it would be a cool way to use my skills," lied Jazz. 

"Yeah but hardly anyone gets in trouble up here," sighed Sideswipe, "all those modelling companies have private armies to keep their models safe."

Jazz decided to change the subject before Sideswipe became suspicious. "What kind of career are you after? Y'know, since you want to learn sword fightin' so much." Sideswipe looked a bit uncertain after Jazz asked him of this. "You do know what you wanna do with this kind of skill, right?" asked Jazz.

"Well..." Sideswipe trailed off a little. "The war is over so a solider is out of the question. I was kinda thinking of an enforcer, but they got too many rules and with my record they wouldn't even consider me. A freelancer sounds cool but I'm not sure about it. Then there's mercenaries, goons for hire, maybe a bodyguard..."

As Sideswipe continued to list his idea of jobs that one could take if they were a swordsmech, Jazz could not help but slap himself in the face. It seemed that Sideswipe had no career aspects or a clue to what he should do with his future. He wasn't going to be buffing armour whilst living with his brother forever.

"Tell you what," sighed Jazz, "I'll get you some career pamphlets, hopefully you'll get a good idea of what you want to do." Maybe one of them might inspire Sideswipe to take up a career that needed a skill such as the one he was teaching him. 

As the night dragged on Jazz taught Sideswipe the basic stances, basic attacks and some basic strategy. It was a simple lesson but it was much more that what Jazz learnt on his first day. After packing the training swords away he ordered Sideswipe to run round the track a few times before a quick stretch off. Once that was complete, the red mech fell onto his aft and rested upon the ground, panting heavily. Jazz pulled out an energon canister he had packed and presented it to Sideswipe before sitting down next to him.

"How did I do?" asked Sideswipe, still panting hard.

"There's room for improvement," replied Jazz, "but you'll get there." Sideswipe smiled after hearing that and proceeded to drink his beverage. As he did, Jazz decided it was time to ask the red mech the question that had been on his mind all day. Of course he wasn't going to flat out say it, but he was going to start a conversation that would lead to it. Relaxing himself a little, he put on his casual smile. "How is work?"

Sideswipe shrugged, gulping back some energon. "It's sort of like my old one, but I have to go to rooms to collect the armour," he huffed. "The other day this prissy old timer kept yapping on how I would scratch it if I didn't use the right cleaning solution. I wish I had my old job back."

"Made any friends?" asked Jazz, sipping some energon he bought for himself.

"Not really," muttered Sideswipe, "they all avoid me. I guess my reputation has got around."

"It's nice to have friends," sighed Jazz, "someone you can trust, who has your back, a mech you can talk to when you need it."

"Do you have a friend like that?" asked Sideswipe, unaware he was walking right into Jazz's trap.

Jazz nodded and held in a vent, keeping his optics locked on the red mech. "I do," he said, "Nightbeat's his name." Jazz watched Sideswipe, looking for signs that the name sounded familiar to the red mech. 

However Sideswipe merely said, "that's a cool name. Is he like your best buddy?"

Jazz but his lip. Sideswipe didn't react at all to the mention of that name. His spark pulse was normal and his tone sounded unfazed. Anyone could see that he had no clue who Nightbeat was at all. Did Nightbeat failed to make contact with Sideswipe or something? Still it was a good thing, at least this proved that Sideswipe couldn't be responsible for Nightbeat's death, but it did mean he had to dig up some more clues.

"Yeah Nightbeat was my best buddy," continued Jazz.

"Was?" questioned Sideswipe.

Frag, Jazz didn't wish to reveal what happened to Nightbeat but after that littke slip he didn't really have a choice. "He... um... he passed away recently," muttered Jazz.

"Oh," winced Sideswipe, "I'm sorry."

His apology seemed genuine. "It's cool," replied Jazz.

"So... um... do you have other friends?" asked Sideswipe, who wanted to steer away from the dead friend topic.

Jazz thought that bringing Prowl into this wouldn't hurt. "There is another and trust me on this, he is the most cruel overworked emotionless fragger I ever met. He is ruthless, mean and doesn't give a slag if you're dying from cosmic rust."

That seemed to shock Sideswipe. "Why would you be friends with someone like that?" he gasped.

"He may be a jerk, but he means well," chuckled Jazz, "he just isn't used to conveyin' emotions so well. In fact watchin' him attemptin' to smile is real scary."

Sideswipe shivered. "I hope I don't meet him." Jazz kinda hoped that if Sideswipe did meet Prowl it would be for friendly introductions and not for a interrogation.

After they rested and finished their energon Jazz decided it was time to head back. There were still a few hours before Sunstreaker woke up do they took their time, walking through a somewhat quiet section of the city. Sideswipe would practise his footwork as they walked back, taking care as not to trip over himself. Jazz was deep in thought. Nightbeat had asked for Sideswipe before he died. Why did he want to talk to him? Was it something related to that cold case he was investigating? Sideswipe had committed petty crimes, his enforcer record was full of them, but if Sideswipe was indeed involved, then what did he do? Maybe it Sideswipe was a witness or something, Jazz had no idea. He could only hope to dig up more clues as the investigation continued.

"Hey Jazz," said Sideswipe abruptly, "can we go in there to eat?"

Jazz looked up to see a small fancy diner that was still open. The name Bex's Place hung above in blue glowing letters. Despite its quaint appearance it still had that look of posh and high quality about it. He was a little hungry but not for decorated energon. "It ain't that fancy crap, is it? I hate eatin' stuff like that, it makes me sick."

"Depends what you order," replied Sideswipe, already heading inside.

Following him inside, Jazz found that the diner was similar to a Greasy Gears restaurant only it was far more luxurious. There were only a couple of patrons inside and a single waitress serving blue energon out of a crystal jug. Sideswipe slid into a window seat and waved at Jazz to join him. The smell of extravagant good was off putting and the menu upon the wall looked overly complicated but Jazz decided to give it a try, sliding into the chair opposite the red mech.

The waitress already stood before their table, pouring the blue energon into their glasses. "What will you be having today?" she asked in a high pitched voice.

"A grease burger," demanded Sideswipe with a hungry grin. Jazz frowned as he was certain that wasn't on the menu.

The waitress frowned. "Sir, we call them tallow cakes here," she stated.

"Same thing," muttered Sideswipe. "Oh, and some engex bites with a energon omega shake."

The waitress seemed to be annoyed as she wrote that down. "You mean paraffin frites and hydrogen aromatic juice," she corrected. She then looked at Jazz, her friendly face now looking like the face of Mortilus coming to get you. "And what will you be having sir?"

"Same as him, minus the drink," replied Jazz, unable to name these odd names for these simple dishes, "but do you serve nucleon floats?"

The waitress seemed to growl as she stormed off. "Quantum delights," she corrected once more.

Sideswipe couldn't help but discreetly snigger. "This stuff isn't as fancy as it sounds, they just serve it differently and give them supposedly better names."

"I figured," snorted Jazz, "I don't get places like this."

It didn't take long for their meal to arrive, the waitress slamming it all down upon the table as she announced its arrival. "Two orders of tallow cakes with paraffin frites, along with a hydrogen aromatic juice and a quantum delight. Enjoy." She said that last part almost bitterly.

Jazz stared at his meal. It was indeed a grease burger but it was garnished with inedible decorations and served in a way that made no sense whatsoever. The engex bites looked oddly shiny than what they were supposed to look like and his drink was served in a glass with strange things sticking out of it. Why did they go to this absurd effort to make his meal look pretty, he was just going to eat it. As he was about to grab the grease burger a loud cough caught his attention. The waitress was pointing to a sigh that enforced a ridiculous rule, "use the cutlery provided. Do not use hands to consume meal." Jazz sighed as he picked up a fork and knife, which also looked bizarre to him. Looking over at Sideswipe he watched as the red mech stabbed his grease burger with a fork and held the whole thing up, eating away at it as it dripped and splattered all over the table. That seemed to upset the waitress but she did nothing and stomped off to attend to the other customers.

"They never said how to use them," said Sideswipe, his mouth full of chewed up grease.

Jazz could not help but snort with laughter. "I guess so," he agreed, though he did use his fork to cut and tear away at the burger, completely destroying it. It was still edible and it didn't taste too bad, just the sauce was a little rich. "Do you eat here often?"

"It may look posh, but it's cheap as hell," replied Sideswipe, stuffing his face as he chatted away, "they just want to fit in with everything else around here. They used to be a standard restaurant but everyone ignored it for being too ordinary, hence why they now act real snobby like." Forcing a few of the bites into his mouth, he somehow continued to talk. "It's the closest to normal I can stomach, plus it's a little fun to tease them."

He wasn't certain if the etiquette of the Towers was rubbing off on him or something, but he was started to get a little disgusted with Sideswipe's mess. Grabbing a napkin he forced it unto Sideswipe's filthy face. "Eat slower," ordered Jazz, "we have plenty of time to get back." 

Sideswipe swallowed hard. "Sorry," he said, grinning sheepishly.

As Sideswipe attempted to eat slower, Jazz decided to ask some more questions about the red mech. He had known him for a little while now but knew nothing much about him. "So have you lived in the Towers all your life? With your brother?"

Sideswipe shook his head in response. "We were actually sparked in Kaon believe it or not," revealed Sideswipe, "but all the preschools there were full so we were transferred to a remote one in the Chrome Fields."

"That's not too far from here," said Jazz, remembering that he had to travel through it to get to the Towers.

"You could see the Towers right from our old back garden. At night it would light up the northern skies. I remember sitting down in the garden with Sunstreaker and looking at the Towers in the distance," lamented Sideswipe, "he always wanted us to go there, said its where beautiful bots lived."

"Did you?" asked Jazz.

"Not really," confessed Sideswipe, "I wasn't into the whole "beauty is everything" and all that crap. Sunstreaker was always good looking so I guess he thought he could take on the modelling career to show off how beautiful he could be."

"So you didn't consider becoming a model like your brother?" asked Jazz.

Sideswipe instantly paused with his eating and stared at Jazz in complete shock. He then started to laugh, bits of his grease burger spluttering out of his mouth despite his best effort to keep it closed. He hit the table with his hands a few times, his amusement over the question seemed hard to contain. "Are you kidding me?" he laughed, wiping the tears that had formed around his optics.

"What?" asked a bewildered Jazz.

He tided himself up before replying. "Well... look at me," he said, gesturing his hands at himself, "I'm not exactly good looking am I?"

Jazz didn't seem impressed with that answer. "Wait a minute, you don't think you're good lookin' enough to be a model?"

Sideswipe's expression seemed to change. "I'm just not pretty enough," he sighed, "I've always known that."

"Always?" Jazz was slightly intrigued.

Sideswipe sighed a little as he leaned back into his chair. He then looked at Jazz, smirking a little. "If you tell anyone this, I'll deny it."

Jazz realised Sideswipe was about to share something personal, so he raised one hand and placed the other over his spark. "I won't tell a soul," he promised.

Sideswipe leaned forward a bit. "When I was really young, back at the school me and Sunstreaker went to, we always got donated toys every three months. One time I got this awesome toy that I used as a sword. I ran round the garden swinging it around like a crazy, but then I remember seeing my brother with the item he pulled out of the donation box." Sideswipe sighed sadly. "He always loved playing dress up with the used garments we were given. Since we lived so close to the Towers it was normal that we received stuff like that from them. The matrons would use them to make berth sheets or curtains, but Sunstreaker liked to wear them. He was surrounded by some of the matrons as he paraded around in them. They all told him how cute and adorable he looked. I remember getting a little jealous."

Jazz tried to imagine a miniature Sunstreaker dressed in an oversized garment. "I guess you wanted to dress up too?"

Sideswipe nodded. "I really wanted to get the matrons attention and have them praise me like they did with Sunstreaker. I thought they would because I was convinced that me and my brother looked identical, apart from the colour scheme. So I asked Sunstreaker if I could wear his garment. He smiled at me and said "sure" and he even helped me put it on right. He kept telling me that I looked just as cute as him, and that made me super happy... but..." Sideswipe suddenly looked miserable and sunk back into his chair. "When I went to show the matrons they all just laughed at me, said I looked ridiculous. I ran off and cried after ripping it off. I guess it was right around then that I realised I wasn't as pretty as my brother despite being his twin."

That story was a little sadder than Jazz thought it would be. "So because a bunch of matrons laughed at you for playing dress up, you assumed it was because you weren't as pretty as your brother?"

Sideswipe nodded. "Pretty much, I'm used to it now."

Jazz remembered Sideswipe saying something like that before, that he was used to thinking he wasn't as good looking as his twin brother. It was almost sad to think he didn't think of himself as pretty as Sunstreaker. "Surely you don't think that you ain't good lookin'?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "No one ever told me I was," was all he said, "well, except for Sunstreaker."

Still it seemed like a sad situation to be in; completely convinced that you weren't pretty just because others treated you unfairly. Sure he wasn't as good looking as the models that populated the city but Sideswipe was still a fairly decent looking mech. If only he could convince him that. 

"Surely there were others who complimented you on your appearance?" asked Jazz, determined to make the kid see he wasn't that bad looking.

"Besides Sunstreaker? No, no one," muttered Sideswipe, fiddling with the mini parasol that came with his drink. 

"Well you must've dated at least once?" asked Jazz. "I bet someone must've wanted to go out with you at some point."

"Seven times," replied Sideswipe coldly.

Seven? "You been on seven dates?" questioned Jazz. "Same guy?"

"I've had seven relationships," explained Sideswipe, bending the stick in his hands. "All of which ended with me getting dumped."

Jazz's optics widened. "So you've been with seven different bots and none of 'em ever complimented your looks?"

Sideswipe suddenly snapped the stick in his hands, his face converting into a foul expression. It suddenly got quiet between them and Jazz could not help but feel uncomfortable. He could see that this particular subject had upset Sideswipe, and from what he had learnt he could see why. The red mech had grown up believing he wasn't physically perfect and he dated seven different bots who apparently never told him that he was cute or handsome. It all sounded rather stressful.

"Why'd they dump you?" asked Jazz, deciding to press forward. There was no point in backing out now.

The red mech but his lip. "Can we talk about this some other time?" he pleaded, "I'm not in the mood." Jazz nodded, thinking it would be best to leave it be for now.

They got back to eating their meals, starting a more good natured chat about swordfighting. Jazz knew this topic would cheer up Sideswipe and it worked like a charm, the red mech instantly forgetting that he was in a bad mood in the first place. They talked and joked and laughed, even after they finished their meal. Jazz morphed his war stories into tales of how he protected his clients from crazy crime bosses and assassins. Sideswipe would sit and listen, asking Jazz how he managed to save his clients from such maniacs. The topic changed over to Sideswipe's interesting life in the Towers. There were clubs he went to when he wasn't working, models he pranked because they got on his nerves and silly little stunts he used to pull on the streets. Although the law abiding part of him disapproved of these acts, he couldn't help but marvel at how he managed to pull these things off. He almost laughed his head off when Sideswipe revealed he stuck some grease gum on Tracks aft plate and it was still there in a published photo.

With their time running out, Jazz paid the bill and he and Sideswipe headed back to the estate. They arrived with a couple of hours to spare and Jazz decided to get his head down for a bit, for he had busy day ahead. 

Before he could head to his room, Sideswipe stopped him. "Can we do this again?" he asked.

"The trainin'?" assumed Jazz, "Well of course, it takes more than one session to-"

"No, I mean... the stuff we did after that?" rephrased Sideswipe, blushing a little.

Jazz smiled a little. He enjoyed the down time he spent with Sideswipe for he wasn't so stuck up like everyone else. He was someone Jazz could talk to and now that he wasn't acting like a brat Sideswipe was fun to be around. "Sure, why not?" he replied.

Sideswipe suddenly formed a smile that Jazz had never seen before, and the bodyguard couldn't help but admit how it made Sideswipe so charming to look at. He looked genuinely happy and it made him look so... attractive. The red mech excused himself and headed back to his room, leaving Jazz to head back to his own room.

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Jazz released a caged yawn as he stood by Sunstreaker, the model signing autographs at the Omega arena. Today was the memorial service for Tremor and thousands of the dead musician's fans have gathered to pay their respects, and to get Sunstreaker's autograph. Jazz had to drink eight cans of Alpha Omega Engex shakes to stay awake. He kept a close optic on the creepy fans and obvious stalkers, shooing away the ones who tried to get too close to the Mortal Sol. Since he was incredibly tired he appeared much more terrifying to the crowds of fans, which actually made his job a tad bit easier.

"Recharged correctly, did you?" asked Sunstreaker, once they were inside a private section of the arena.

Holding in another yawn, Jazz did his best to smile. "Late night on the workout bench," he lied. He didn't want Sunstreaker to think he was too tired so he kept his visor on to hide his dark optics. 

The memorial went on with songs being sung, actors and fellow musicians paying tribute and a slideshow dedicated to the glamourise life Tremor lead. There were tears and laughter and shanix being made without anyone realising it, and before Jazz realised it the whole thing was over. He almost fell asleep through most of it, discreetly slapping himself awake when he felt the need to nod off. Every time a tray of engex floated past him he would grab a few glasses and gulp them down. He couldn't go through this again and decided to find a better time on the day to train Sideswipe, or at least make certain he had nothing special going on the next day.

With the memorial over, everyone clamoured into the main lobby for the final reception. Models drank high quality energon whilst mingling with actors and singers, chatting away about trivial things. Sunstreaker got the usual crowd of idolising fans, all praising him for a spectacular service in the memory of the late Tremor. Jazz kept by his side, still a little groggy even after all the engex shakes. He was starting to wish he had those military grade ultra energon drinks that could keep him awake for months. It was normal for the black ops to consume such powerful beverages, so they could continue fighting even when their enemies were too exhausted to fight back. Jazz recalled how he had almost forgotten how to recharge because he had been wide awake for nearly three hundred years. Maybe if he asked Prowl he could get a hold of some, just until he left the Towers. 

As he stood there he could not help but wonder what Sideswipe was up to. He had work later on today so he was possibly resting from the training last night. Thinking back to last night Jazz could not help but recall how the red mech smiled at him when he promised to hang out with him some more. It wasn't one of those cocky grins or smug smirks but a simple but sweet smile showing how much it made him happy that Jazz said yes. He actually looked really cute when he smiled like that and Jazz was having a hard time getting it out of his head. He hoped Sideswipe was getting the TT he needed.

"How are you feeling Jazz?" suddenly asked Sunstreaker, the pair of them being left alone for now.

"Apologies, I shouldn't have worked out so much," replied Jazz, holding in a yawn. "I'll rest once we get back."

"It's fine, you have a life outside of this job and I can't keep you from it," chuckled Sunstreaker with a smile. Looking over at the crowds that surrounded them, Sunstreaker continued to smile calmly at the scene before them. "To think Tremor had so many fans."

"I guess they loved him for his music," suggested Jazz, for it certainly wasn't for his attitude.

Sunstreaker made a single amused sound from his throat. "Music isn't the first thing that came to mind when I listened to his songs. Aw well, at least he's gone."

Jazz didn't find that tone Sunstreaker used to be pleasant. "You make it sound like you're happy he's gone."

"Of course I am," huffed Sunstreaker, "fragger tried to rape my brother."

Jazz was shocked to hear Sunstreaker say such a thing out loud in public, despite it being true. He recalled the story from Sideswipe who had tried to convince his brother what transpired between Tremor and himself at the recording studio, but Sunstreaker acted like he didn't believe him. It now seemed from that sudden statement that Sunstreaker had indeed taken Sideswipe's story to spark, only he never told him for some reason or the rest of the world, acting as if he sided with Tremor. "Sideswipe said you didn't believe him when he told you," said Jazz.

"I did believe him," sighed Sunstreaker, looking a little sorry for himself, "but as a model and one of the main faces of one of the most powerful modelling companies on Cybertron, I couldn't just run over to Tremor and attack him or hire an army of lawyers to take him down. I had to handle it the professional way and unfortunately Sideswipe had to be a scape goat."

Jazz was almost sickened by this. "He's your brother," he said, "you should've fought for him."

Sunstreaker looked up at Jazz, a hint of anger in his calm expression. "Jazz I'm going to tell you right here and now that I adore my brother above all else, however I can't always side with him because of my position." Sunstreaker looked back to the crowd. "It's a difficult position I'm in unfortunately... It would be much better if I took him away from all this," he said quietly. 

Trying to look at it from Sunstreaker's perspective, Jazz could see why he had to act like his brother was the culprit instead of bringing the true culprit to justice. He was the highest grossing model in the Towers, the Jewel of Pulchritudo INC, a mech with a lot of fame and a lot of fans. Getting dragged into a lawsuit could damage his career, but still was his work more important to him than his own family? Sideswipe was being treated like a little crimp with a bad attitude but now that Jazz got to know him some more, he was actually just a decent young kid who wanted to live his life the way he wanted. Living in the shadow of his famous brother wasn't helping him, in fact it almost destroyed him. It was a good thing Jazz came along when he did.

"So you've been talking with him?" demanded Sunstreaker abruptly.

Jazz flinched a little. "We talk," he admitted.

"About what?" asked Sunstreaker.

"Just general conversations and all that stuff in between," replied Jazz, wondering why Sunstreaker was curious all of a sudden.

Sunstreaker was about to ask Jazz something else regarding his brother when someone shouted out his title. The pair looked over to see the red faced model, Tracks, marching towards them. He appeared to be upset about something and his bodyguard and manager were following, attempting to calm him down. Sunstreaker sighed as he wiped his brow, bracing himself for whatever Tracks had to throw at him.

"Mortal Sol, you have some nerve," hissed Tracks, halting himself before Sunstreaker. Jazz moved a bit closer to remind the blue mech of his presence but Tracks didn't seem to care.

"What do you want now Blue Flame?" huffed Sunstreaker, clearly annoyed.

"Don't give me that attitude," snarled Tracks, "why were you chosen to lead the memorial for Tremor!? I was his friend, it should have been me!"

"You know very well that it was Platinum's idea, not mine," muttered Sunstreaker, "now go calm yourself before you get stress lines on your face."

"He's right Tracks," begged the manager, grabbing a tray with a single cocktail on it, "why don't we go and have a nice relaxing-" Before the manager could finish, Tracks knocked the tray out of his hands, the sound of breaking glass and the clatter of the tray drew the attention of the large crowds surrounding them.

"You didn't deserve to do it," continued Tracks, "not after what your bitch of a brother did to him!"

Jazz was almost certain he heard Sunstreaker growl but the model maintained a calm posture. "That matter was settled a long time ago Blue Flame, so I would kindly ask that you drop it."

Tracks continued despite Sunstreaker's demand. "He had the nerve to accuse Tremor of indecent assault after he attacked him and left him with those awful scars, and then you got in the way of justice and convinced Tremor to drop the charges. Tremor would never stoop so low to commit such a heinous act!" 

"I paid for his metal surgery and we sorted it all out professionally," retorted Sunstreaker, still looking very much annoyed. "Are you finished? I got the part, you didn't, same old same old, get over it for the love of Primus."

"Where is that damn brother of yours now?" demanded Tracks, "walking free and probably laughing at Tremor's demise!?"

"Sideswipe is not involved in this," snapped Sunstreaker, now getting angry that Trackscwas refusing to take a hint, "now leave us be Tracks."

"I heard he was in that part of the spa just before Tremor died," continued Tracks, his manager still attempting to calm him with no such luck. "Did he kill him for the hell of it? Were you in on it? Did you both plan his death? I always knew that spiky helmed bitch was a no good troublemaker the moment I saw him! You both are."

Sunstreaker looked like he was holding in a flood of rage but the dam of willpower he created to hold it all in was impressive. "Sideswipe would never commit such a crime and he is perfectly innocent, so go drown yourself in a bar or something and forget we ever had this conversation."

The blue mech looked absolutely furious and shouting as loud as his vocals would let him he bellowed, "your brother should have... have... he should have been in a-a a prison cell as a convict's personal whore!"

The entire lobby was filled with a collective of loud gasps before falling silent, even Jazz felt his jaw drop at such a disgusting insult like that. All optics turned to Sunstreaker who just stood there, staring at Tracks with a shockingly calm stance. There was no anger or disgust in his optics he just stood there in a strange and quiet way. Everyone started to get a little uneasy as the Mortal Sol continued to do nothing but stare at Tracks. Tracks himself actually started to appear concerned for his own safety and stepped back a little. Jazz wasn't sure if he should say or do something, he himself was angry that Tracks had wished such a thing upon Sideswipe.

Sunstreaker finally did something but it wasn't as dramatic as everyone had hoped. He merely gave Tracks a pitiful smile and said, "my word Tracks, if you keep shouting like that you're going to damage that noise box you call a voice. Why don't you take a nice long relaxing trip to one of my Celestial Spas? My treat."

Tracks began trembling with rage, angry that he had failed to ignite any frustration from his rival. He almost lunged at Sunstreaker but Jazz stood between them, taking extreme care that he wasn't going to touch either of them. "Alright just cool your jets," demanded Jazz, trying to avoid making any contact with the furious blue mech.

"How dare you speak to me like that," spat Tracks, his optics burning with rage.

Jazz was about to say something else when Tracks' bodyguard stepped in. "Back off chump," he threatened.

"Why don't you both back off," retorted Jazz.

Tracks' bodyguard released a low growl before smashing his head against Jazz's face. Jazz grimaced from the surprise attack, hearing the sound of his visor crack from the impact and feeling the sensation of the horrific pain around his face. He staggered back a bit, reaching for his face to asses the damage. He wasn't sure if it was because he was tired or because he was angry with what Tracks had said, but Jazz gave that bodyguard a glare full of death as he charged forward and punched him as hard as he could in the abdomen. The bodyguard was flung back, smashing into a pile of tables, models and guests screeching as they jumped out of the way.

"Cease this at once," bellowed Platinum, waddling over to the scene, "control your bodyguards this instant."

Jazz wiped his face with a grunt smearing some energon blood away whilst Tracks stomped over and berated his own bodyguard for failing or something. Sunstreaker just stood there rubbing his brow and appearing annoyed yet calm, trying to ignore Platinum as he shouted and cried about the models acting like sparklings. Once everything had settled down, Sunstreaker had a private talk with Platinum, possibly apologising for all the chaos. Jazz had patched up his face as best he could but his visit had completely shattered. Thankfully he has some special gel back at the estate that could fix it, he only hoped that all the programs Prowl installed on it were still operational. It didn't take Sunstreaker long to return and he informed Jazz that they were leaving. Following him to a private shuttle, Jazz wondered if either Sunstreaker or himself were in trouble. The model was quiet for the most part during the tide in the shuttle and Jazz felt a little awkward sitting across from him.

"Well that was annoying, wasn't it?" muttered Sunstreaker, pulling out a hidden canister of engex from a hidden subspace.

"I'll say," murmured Jazz, rubbing his aching brow.

"I swear that Blue Flame is determined to get the better of me," continued Sunstreaker, sipping his beverage, "one of these days he's going to do something stupid and he'll try and drag me down with him."

Jazz tried to relax but he was a little concern that his random act of violence might have gotten them into trouble. "Was Platinum upset?" he asked.

"Oh please, I've done worse and Tracks has caused more fights between models and their bodyguards then a drunken bar from Tarn," scoffed Sunstreaker, swigging his drink down, "He just gave me the usual "please behave" and "get that bodyguard under control" and all that other malarkey. If you're concerned about your job, don't be. It's just another day in the Towers." 

That was one thing of his mind though now Jazz found himself concerned for Sunstreaker. "I was surprised you didn't shout back at him for what he said 'bout your brother."

Sunstreaker rolled his optics. "I've heard worse, and besides I wasn't going to get angry at a Tracks just because he pushed my switch. It would have been satisfying for him if I got upset."

Jazz frowned. "You've heard worse?" Had others always insulted Sideswipe in front of Sunstreaker?

"You see Jazz, models like to push each other's buttons," explained Sunstreaker, setting his drink aside, "we all laugh and pretend we're good chums, but in reality we can't stand one another. I get the most hate because of my status and so they dug around until they found the one switch that sets me off."

Jazz didn't need to be told what that was. "Your brother, right?"

"I do adore Sideswipe," sighed Sunstreaker, a sad smile present upon his polished face, "I adore him above everything else and unfortunately they all figured that out, so I prepare myself for the worst everyday because I refuse to give them what they want. I even had to dig up their own switches, pressing them the moment they try and press mine."

"Does Sideswipe know?" asked Jazz.

"No, and don't even think about telling him," ordered Sunstreaker. He reached for his drink again and brought it to his lips. "So what are you going to do with that visor of yours? It's completely ruined."

Jazz shrugged with a casual grin. "I got this special gel for it. I just smother it all over and leave it to set for a the night, it'll be working again by tomorrow."

Sunstreaker made a "huh" sound and went back to sipping his drink whilst staring out of the shuttle's windows. For the rest of the journey back to the estate there was silence between them. The model was deep in thought, possibly still upset with what had happened but was refusing to show it. Jazz found that he had a slightly better understanding of the life that Sunstreaker lead, though there were still parts that made no sense to him. He told himself that if he was in Sunstreaker's place he would have defended Sideswipe no matter what, but Sunstreaker had to take care in what he said and did due to his career, for his sake and for Sideswipe's. Sunstreaker clearly did seem to care for Sideswipe but the more Jazz thought about it the more it felt like something was a little off about it all.

Once back at the estate Sunstreaker retired to his personal quarters after falling in his manager, muttering how he needed to lie down. Jazz himself decided to call it a day, his hunger to rest taking over. Entering his room he fumbled about in his belongings until he pulled out the gel. He yawned a few times as he coated his visor with it and left it to sit on a nearby shelf. If he left a recorded message in his comm unit in case Prowl called, also leaving a request for those military engex drinks, and finally slumped onto his berth. As his optics closed and the need to recharge took over, he could have sworn he heard the sound of a door opening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this chapter too long? I'm trying to make them longer :)
> 
> Also I know I made Tracks like a jerk in this chapter, but he will redeem himself so stay tuned Tracks fans


	10. Chapter 10

Warnings so far: Murder mystery  
\------------------------------------------------------

Opening his heavy optics, Jazz found himself staring up at the ceiling of his room. He was still feeling tired and he yawned as he rolled over. Peering over at the shelf where he left his visor he was pleased to see that the gel had did its job, the cracks completely gone. Once he was wide awake he'd give them a test to see if the software in it was still functioning. He continued to lay there, feeling a little lazy.

"Few more minutes," he murmured.

However his little lie in was disturbed when the sound of distant loud music could be heard. Jazz grunted as he rolled over again in a vain attempt to block it out. When that failed he tried to smother his audios with a pillow. The music seemed to be getting louder and Jazz finally had enough, sitting up and slamming the pillow onto his berth. He grabbed his visor as he left the room, following the music to its source. He wasn't too surprised to find it was coming from Sideswipe's room, finding himself standing outside the closed door. Instead of knocking he carefully opened the door and peered inside. 

The first thing he saw was Sideswipe, unaware of Jazz's presence, in the middle of a mix between cleaning up his room and dancing to some loud music. The song playing was a decent hip tune with a steady beat and Sideswipe was clearly enjoying it. The red mech continued to shake his hips and sway his body to the music, humming the tune that played out and just looked like he was having fun in general.

Jazz just stood there, his brain module finally fully online, as he watched Sideswipe boogie to the song, who was still unaware that Jazz was watching him. Although he should be annoyed he was disturbed from some extra sleep, he could not help but let his optics wander down Sideswipe's moving body. He only now just realised how slim and flexible the red mech's body was, how the red and black metal complemented each other. Every now and then Sideswipe would jerk his hips to a particular beat of the song, and Jazz was absolutely transfixed upon them. Even the way he swayed his aft was almost hypnotising.

He forced himself to stop gawking at Sideswipe and walked over to the stereo where the music blared out from. Slamming a finger down on the mute button the song ceased and Sideswipe danced to the sound of silence for a moment before he realised what was going on. The red mech stopped and looked over his shoulder, gasping when he saw Jazz.

"W-when-... how long were you standing there?" he stuttered, his face turning a bright shade of pink as he stumbled backwards. He walked right into his case of data novels, knocking a number of them down. Sideswipe squeaked upon seeing his collection on the floor and quickly tried to tidy it up.

Feeling a little responsible Jazz walked over to assist him. "Lemme help," he said, bending down to pick a few up.

"N-no," begged the embarrassed Sideswipe, his arms full of data novels, "I can do it, just stay away!"

"I already know you read romance novels kid," teased Jazz, picking one up and looking at the cover. "I left my Spark in Crystal City. Interesting."

Sideswipe dropped the novels he held to hide his bright pink face. "Nooooo," he moaned. "Why is this happening to me?"

Jazz picked a few more up, reading the titles aloud. "Forbidden Sparks. Gone with the Solar Wind. The Prime and I. It Happened One Orbital Cycle. The Fallen's Bride. My Optics look to you." Jazz couldn't help but smirk at these cheesy romance titles. They were the sort of things lonely mechs or femmes read when they were single and desperate for love though some of them were actually a really good classics. He even had that famous unnamed love story written by an ancient Prime. "How many of these do you have?" laughed Jazz.

Sideswipe rolled up into a ball of shame uttering a long low moan of despair, unable to look or even say anything to Jazz. He murmured something but it was unintelligible. It must have been really embarrassing for him to have someone get a closer look at his data novel collection. Jazz couldn't resist teasing him, thinking it was suitable payback for waking him up with the loud music. He did stack them back but he spotted one that was different from the others.

"How to be a better partner for your lover?"

As he read the title aloud, Sideswipe sat up immediately and snatched it away from Jazz, his face blushing even more. "Stop reading these," he blurted, grabbing a handful of the them and crammed them onto the shelf. "I have to put them back in the right order!"

Jazz decided he teased Sideswipe enough and stepped back to allow him to clean up the mess without embarrassing him any further. He gazed around the room and was impressed how clean and spacious it looked. There were still boxes here and there, possibly filled with items that Sideswipe was either going to throw away or sort out later. He continued to admire the cleanliness of the room when his optics fell upon something he didn't expect Sideswipe to have. It was a finely designed dresser complete with a vanity mirror, which unfortunately was broken. It reminded Jazz of the ones he saw at the studios where the models would sit before them whilst applying makeup and jewellery. There was a lone box on the dresser marked "useless junk" in big red letters. Peering over at the red mech to see he was still shoving his novels away, Jazz grew a bit curious and peeped inside the box. It was even more surprising to see it was full of beauty products, makeup cases and perfumes. All of them had been used whilst some were left unfinished. Upon closer inspection Jazz could see that these were high quality products and really expensive ones too. Why would someone like Sideswipe have so many items like these?

Something in the box caught his optics, a lone digital print of a mech he didn't recognise. Jazz tried to reach for it but a pair of red arms wrapped themselves around the box and snatched it away before he could. "Stop looking at my things," he wailed, his face still a bright shade of pink. "Why are you being so nosey today?"

He shoved the box under his berth, Jazz spying a few other ones like it. "Didn't think you were the type to use beauty products," chuckled Jazz awkwardly. Sideswipe suddenly scowled at him. "Sorry," winced Jazz, raising his hands in a sign of apology.

Once he had hidden the stuff he didn't want Jazz to see Sideswipe recomposed himself. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked, trying to sound firm but was clearly still flustered.

"I originally came here to tell you to shut off that music," explained Jazz with a yawn. "I was tryin' to catch up on my recharge due to what transpired last night." Sideswipe suddenly looked a little guilty, realising it was partly his fault why Jazz was so tired. "How come you're wide awake?" demanded Jazz, wiping his weary optics, "you had to work yesterday, didn't you?"

Sideswipe scratched his helm. "In between shifts we get long breaks, so I take a nap during them so I can keep going."

"How long are your breaks?" asked the curious Jazz, thinking that they had to be quite long naps.

"A couple hours," replied Sideswipe, "maybe more." He got breaks that lasted that long? Either they were overstaffed or it was just a quiet period at the hotel. Still it did explain why Sideswipe was up and about. "Sometimes when I try to stay awake I end up falling into recharge anyway," continued Sideswipe, "that particular break room just makes me feel sleepy."

The two awkwardly chuckled at each before they found themselves in an awkward silence. "So anyway," said Jazz, wanting to break the silence, "if you want some late night trainin' again, we're gonna need to set some dates around our work."

Sideswipe nodded. "I'm actually free this week," he said, "so anytime you're free would be great."

Jazz checked his schedule and apart from a photo shoot that Sunstreaker had to attend in another part of the city, he too had a slightly relaxed time frame. "Tomorrow night?" he suggested.

"Yeah, I can make that," replied Sideswipe with a smile. The silence came back and the pair of them stood there, both of them unsure of what to do next. "Soooooo..." trailed off Sideswipe.

"Yeah, I better go," said Jazz, believing he had taken up enough of Sideswipe's time. Before he left he looked back at the red mech and grinned. "Nice dancin' by the way." Sideswipe blushed again, growling in frustration as he grabbed a pillow off his berth and flung it towards Jazz. It just missed him and Jazz stepped out of the room, closing the door behind. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself after all that.

Heading back to his room, his comm went off alerting him that Prowl was trying to call him. He quickly ducked into his room and closed the door before answering the call. "Where the hell have you been!?" came an angry voice.

"Sleepin'," replied Jazz.

"Hmm, a good thing I acquired those military engex drinks for you, which wasn't easy by the way. My boss is wondering why I would need such a strong energon for this investigation," muttered Prowl, which made Jazz pull a fist with delight. "Anyway, I need you to meet me down here at the Base tonight," demanded Prowl.

"How come?" asked Jazz, slumping onto his berth.

"I found an opportunity to speak with Thunderhoof," explained Prowl, "and hopefully it won't result in a brawl."

"Ain't he a crime boss?" If there was one thing Jazz knew about crime bosses, is was that their triggermechs and goons weren't too far behind.

"As I said, I found an opportunity to speak with him without violence," assured Prowl, "I'll send you the coordinates."

"Cool," replied Jazz, relaxing into his berth.

"Oh by the way Jazz," continued Prowl, "about that case you sent down, the one that belonged to Brawl." Jazz recalled the giant case that his predecessor left behind and the fact that Nightbeat had recorded it in his notes. "I studied every last inch of it and the only thing I could find were traces of spark flowers."

"Spark flowers?" That too was on the list. "So Brawl was walkin' around with a giant case of flowers?"

"Not quite," explained Prowl, "after studying the case a little further I concluded that there was something heavy placed in there."

"Any idea what?" asked Jazz.

"None unfortunately," sighed Prowl, "the case was cleaned throughly and I was lucky to find that small trace of the flower."

Jazz sighed as these clues made no sense. "What did Brawl had to do with any of this?" he muttered over the line.

"Possibly more than we know," replied Prowl, "Strongarm recently discovered that Brawl was one of Thunderhoof's lackeys."

"Woah wait, he worked for him?" Judging from his mugshot Brawl did look the type to work for a mob boss. Though if he was, how did he end up working for Sunstreaker as his bodyguard. "Do you think the Mortal Sol knew?"

"Unsure at the moment, but most likely no," answered Prowl, "it's possible Thunderhoof sent him undercover as I did with you, only for a more sinister reason. You'd be surprised how many of these bodyguards for the Towers models work for gangs and crooks. There's shanix to be made when it comes to these models and you can bet your blades that they'd sell anything they can get their paws on. Anyway we'll find out tonight. Don't be late."

\------------------------------------------------------

Arriving outside a shabby motel door, Jazz knocked a few times until it opened. Stepping inside the stench of stale furniture and cheap polish filled his olfactory sensors. There were stains on the walls and marks on the floor, and Jazz was certain he saw a turbo rat scurry about in a corner before disappearing behind a chair. Although it was refreshing to be back in a normal environment, well normal enough for Jazz, it still made him feel a little off to be in such an disorderly room. He really needed to get out of the Towers as fast as possible. Prowl was standing by the window with his optical enhancer on, a bag placed next to him on a shabby dresser. He was staring intensely out the window at something, ignoring Jazz for a moment but was muttering something to himself. Jazz took a peek at the bag, smiling when he spotted those engex shakes he wanted

"You do care," chortled Jazz, taking one out and snapping it open.

"Hurry up and drink one," ordered Prowl, still staring out the window. "He'll arrive any minute."

As Jazz slurped the drink down, shivering a little from the extreme buzz he felt the moment it touched his glossa, he joined Prowl by the window. The first thing he saw through the dirty glass was a large club across the murky street. Bright colourful words spelt out the word "Ment" and it was surrounded by call femmes and rent mechs along with potential customers. Sturdy bouncers guarded the doors, trying to shoo away the harlots from the vicinity of the establishment. Some sleazy bots who looked like they had a few shanix to spend would enter with a couple of rent mechs or call femmes on each arm. 

Jazz stared at the club unimpressed. "What kind of name is Ment?" snorted Jazz, taking another swig of his special drink.

"Apparently they named it that because it's located in the Base," answered Prowl, "Base. Ment. Basement." Even though he was the one who explained it Prowl still appeared unamused as did Jazz. "Apparently they thought it was clever," muttered Prowl.

"Apparently they aren't," scoffed Jazz. "So I'm guessin' Thunderhoof is a frequent visitor to this joint?"

"He is," replied Prowl, "it may look low down but it has a special VIP section located around the rear of the building, that's where all their expensive patrons go including Thunderhoof. He'll show up soon so remain alert and finish your engex."

Jazz appeared impressed with Prowl's work. "Alright, so what's the plan?"

"When he enters the club we will go in and talk with him," explained Prowl, still looking out the window.

"That's it!?" gasped Jazz, shocked that such an idea came from such a mech like Prowl. "This Thunderhoof is a crime boss right? That means he's a thug, a crook, a killer and he'll have a few sturdy triggermechs followin' him about to prevent bots like us from gettin' near him. You're tellin' me that we're just goin' to waltz in there and hope he'll agree to have a talk with us?"

"I don't think he will," answered Prowl calmly, "I'll know he will. Thunderhoof is a lot of things, but at the end of the day he is all about business. Besides if it does get messy we'll just have to use a little force."

Jazz still thought it was rather risky plan, even if it was Prowl who came up with it. They were in an area of the Base where crooks and thugs ruled the streets, and the law took no interest in it because they either didn't care or they themselves took part in it. Jazz wasn't afraid of danger but he was afraid that they weren't going to find what they need by this direct approach. Prowl was smart, terrifyingly smart. He must had come up with a good plan to go along with this idea. All he could do is hope that Thunderhoof was the type who listened.

As they waited Jazz noticed a couple of small canisters on a rusty table. "What are those?" he asked, picking one up.

"I wanted to run tests on Knockout's drugs, so I acquired some," answered Prowl, "these two are perfectly legal and they were the ones Nightbeat was interested in."

Looking at the labels on the canisters Jazz saw the names of the chemicals inside each one. The first one was the aphrodisiac and the other was the sleeping medicine. They both had rather large warnings, demanding that no alcoholic energon was to be consumed within 24 hours after taking either of the drugs. At least Knockout did stick by his Hippocratic oath. It did make him wonder how these drugs were involved in Nightbeat's case. The only thing he knew about this mystery case that it somehow involved the twins Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, these drugs and Thunderhoof, that hotel and Brawl's case, and the fact that it was a cold case Nightbeat was working on. Some of my them were tied together but so far they still made no sense. They didn't even know what exactly the cold case was. Was it an old murder case? Most cold cases revolved around unsolved murders, but it might have been a theft or a kidnapping. Jazz hoped that they would solve it for Nightbeat's sake and hopefully it would lead them to whoever killed him.

Jazz sighed as he slumped into a dirty chair waiting for this crime boss to show up. Prowl continued to observe from the window, his optics focused on the club across the street. As he stared up at the filthy ceiling his mind began to wander into his deep thoughts. He thought about Nightbeat, he thought about his old home back at Tygar Pax and then his mind began to wander towards his thoughts on Sideswipe. He knew him a little better now but there were still things he didn't know about him. Not so long ago he was an anti social little brat but that was a shield he used to hide what he really was; a young mech who felt alone. His true self was far more interesting in Jazz's opinion. Sideswipe was energetic, funny, and was determined when he wasn't acting like a kid, which did actually make him adorable at times. Jazz grinned a little as he recalled that sweet smile Sideswipe made. He hadn't seen a smile like that that in a long time and it made the red mech look so innocent and cute. In fact Jazz found it surpassed Sunstreaker's smile and he was the model whom everyone believed was the better looking of the twins. Jazz didn't really care for physical appearance but the moment he saw that smile Sideswipe made, he could not deny how... the only word Jazz could think of was...

"Beautiful."

"What?" Prowl averted his gaze from the window and looked over at Jazz.

"O-oh nothing," stuttered Jazz, sitting up.

Prowl rolled his optics and returned to his post. "By the way, that twin the Mortal Sol has?"

Jazz grimaced, thinking that Prowl had somehow guessed what he was thinking about. "What about him?"

"I learnt that he comes down here sometimes," stated Prowl, "he frequents a number of clubs down here, one of them being near the location Brawl died."

"You STILL think he killed Brawl?" sighed Jazz, "that kid couldn't kill anyone if his life depended on it." He didn't mean to insult Sideswipe but it was the truth.

"True," said Prowl, "but with the right weapon he could take down a Kaon gladiator with ease."

"The right weapon? You said Brawl was killed by a sword," reminded Jazz, knowing for certain that the sword that Sideswipe owned hadn't even been used.

Prowl was about to answer but before he could something outside caught his attention. "He's here," he stated.

Jazz rose from his chair to join Prowl at the window. Peering out through the dirty glass he spied three vehicles pull up, one of them a dark blue colour with an odd design. The call femmes and rent mech's fled from the area, the look of fear upon their painted faces. The three vehicles converted, the first two being the obvious henchmechs whilst the other was a tall and sturdy scarlet optic mech with a bizarre helm design, where two antler like horns say either side of his dark head. He bore a powerful expression upon his silver grey face, scowling at everyone and everything. He made his way inside with his henchmechs following.

"Let's go," ordered Prowl, already heading towards the door.

Following him out of the motel and down the street, Jazz stuck close with Prowl as they made their way towards the club. They ignored the cat calls from the harlots surrounding them and the threatening glares from the low life criminals. The bouncers already saw them as a threat as they approached but Prowl pulled out his shock baton and instantly incapacitated them, assuring Jazz that they would be back online long after they finished their business. Once inside Prowl lead Jazz through a dark hallway, a few of doors and down a number of stairs until the loud music could barely be heard. They soon arrived at another door guarded by a well polished steward, who looked horrified to see them.

"Excuse me but this is a private VIP section and you are no on the list," barked the steward, "I'm going to have to ask you to-" 

Before he could finish, Jazz shoved him aside as Prowl pushed opened the set of doors. They found themselves in a large open room where a fairly big stage was set up with decorated tables surrounded it. A few of these tables were occupied as the spectators who sat upon them watch a group of femmes on the stage playing musical instruments and singing catchy songs. The room reeked of rich perfume, cygar fumes and strong energon drinks. Prowl and Jazz moved across the room, their presence caught the interest of a few of the patrons but they were mostly ignored. They eventually arrived at a large enclosed booth where the two henchmechs they saw outside guarded while the large antler mech sat inside drinking from a large glass. As the two mech's approached the henchmechs made their presence known and readied themselves to protect their boss. 

"Thunderhoof, is it?" demanded Prowl, standing before the occupied booth.

The antler mech looked up at them with a threatening scowl. "EY-YO, who the hells are you guys?" he barked, slamming his glass on the tables. "I thought I told that cop house to mind their own business when it comes to my operations. You got some gears to dare waltz in here to bug me!"

He seemed to recognise that Prowl was an enforcer. Well Prowl DID look like an enforcer even when he wasn't acting like one. "If I was here to discuss your unlawful activities Thunderhoof, you'd be rusting in a prison right about now," calmly retorted Prowl. "We're here to talk about other things."

Thunderhoof growled as his two henchmechs readied their weapons. He then looked over at Jazz and suddenly looked interested. "Hey you're the Mortal Sol's new bodyguard, ain't ya." He then seemed a little annoyed for some reason. "If you're looking for work you can beat it, I don't employ cop lovers."

"Why the hell would I work for you," sneered Jazz.

"Most of your kind do," huffed Thunderhoof, "some of 'em I send up to apply for the job and the others get sent my way to work for me."

Prowl stepped in. "So a majority of the bodyguards who protect the city's models are working for you then?" he speculated.

"They're not exactly breaking any laws cop," huffed Thunderhoof, "they just send certain things my way when I needs 'em. Now whats the hell do you want? My favourite show is about to start."

Prowl proceeded to sit upon an empty chair at the table showing no fear. "I want to ask you about a detective who spoke with you."

Thunderhoof placed a cygar between his lips, biting down hard at it. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific cop." Prowl sighed as he produced a digital print of Nightbeat. Thunderhoof stared at it for a moment before looking back at Prowl. "Maybe I did talk with him," he sneered, "but why should I tell you?"

"Because I have information you want," replied Prowl, "I know you're looking for a certain mech who double crossed you and made off with some of your wares, I know you've been actively seeking Clampdown and I know where he is."

At the mention of that name Thunderhoof snapped the cygar between his fingers. "That little penny pincher is scheduled for a stomp once I get my hands on him," he growled, "but you cops have been hiding him from me after he cut a deal with you."

"Personally I don't think he's worth the effort to protect," sneered Prowl, "he keeps crawling back to mechs like you, wasting our time as well as yours it seems." He rested his arms upon the table, clutching his hands and give Thunderhoof a sly but calculating stare. "I'd be doing is both s favour by giving you the location he's hiding in."

Jazz was almost shocked that Prowl was willing to give up information about someone in a witness protection program, but then remembered that this was Prowl he was dealing with; a criminal at the end of the day was a criminal to him no matter what they did to try and redeem themselves. Thunderhoof appeared intrigued by the offer but kept his intimidating expression. "So you'll give me that lil' snitch and all you want is some dirt on that detective?" Prowl nodded. "Feh, alright whatever," tutted Thunderhoof, "yeah I spoke with him, but unlike you clowns he actually had the gears to walk right into one of my many bases. Real classy guy too, if he weren't working for the other side of the law I would have hired him."

"What was he after?" demanded Prowl.

"I have to say he was quite a detective," huffed Thunderhoof, appearing impressed from a past memory, "managed to find out about my business partner up top."

"Steeljaw, right?" said Prowl with a cold grin.

Thunderhoof appeared angry when Prowl mentioned that name. "You better not go flabbin' your lips about that," he spat. 

"I won't," promised Prowl, "if you tell me exactly what you told the detective."

Thunderhoof took out a fresh cygar. "He came here asking about one of Steeljaw's clubs," he said, "said it was one of my drug supplies that lead him to me. He told me he had been trying to find a club one of my bots up top was visiting."

"Who?" asked Prowl, determined to get every piece of information he could.

"You already know," sneered Thunderhoof, "you were digging around the last place his spark pulsed before he starting pushing up lugnuts."

"Brawl?" guessed Jazz, "I thought he worked for the Mortal Sol."

"Weren't you listening short horn," barked Thunderhoof, "most of those bodyguards work for me and Brawl was one of 'em. Well he was 'til I fired him."

"You fired him? Why?" questioned Prowl.

"He did something he wasn't supposed to do. In fact he did two things he wasn't supposed to do," huffed Thunderhoof, sipping his drink, "he took a job from a private client and got caught doing it! That lousy greedy smuck!"

Both Jazz and Prowl were a little confused. "What exactly do these bodyguards do for you?" asked Jazz, who had a feeling it wasn't going to be a good thing.

"Nothing illegal," spat Thunderhoof, "but sometimes I get fans of the models with loads of shanix to spare askin' for photos, armour flakes, coolant samples and oral fluids from certain models. So my bots collect them, send 'em my way and I sell it for a substantial fee." Jazz made a gagging found as Prowl pulled a disgusted face. "Hey it's not my choice to pick these certain things to sell," snapped Thunderhoof, "there are real freaks in the world. I just take advantage of 'em."

"So I'm guessin' Brawl took on a job without your consent?" gagged Jazz, still revolted at what these bodyguards did for extra shanix.

"Some chump asked him to get something from the Mortal Sol's place, but he got caught in the act and got fired," muttered Thunderhoof, "a bodyguard who ain't guardin' a model is worthless to me."

"So you killed him?" stated Jazz, earning a glare from both Prowl and Thunderhoof.

Thunderhoof merely chuckled at Jazz's claim, raising up his legs and resting them on the table, showing off his powerful limbs to the two mechs. "Do you know how I deal with those who dare cross me?" he sneered. "I either give them the horns or I stomp them to death. It's sort of my signature execution, see? From what I heard Brawl got done in by a sword."

"How did you know that?" snapped Jazz.

"I have my sources," chuckled Thunderhoof, returning his legs to under the table. "I also know that the detective got his life cut in half."

"Did you kill him?" hissed Jazz.

"Nope and don't bother askin' who 'cause I don't know either," replied Thunderhoof. "Such a shame, he was a right classy fella."

"Wow, you're useful," sneered Jazz sarcastically.

"Anyway," said Prowl abruptly, wanting to get the conversation back on Nightbeat's investigation without angering the crime boss, "tell us what the detective wanted to know. He was asking about a club and Brawl?"

Thunderhoof continued to scowl as he drank from his glass as he continued. "Anyways the detective wanted to know what Brawl was carrying in some big ol' case. I don't know how he found out, maybe he overheard something, but the detective learnt that Brawl was ordered to take this case to a specific club owned by Steeljaw. Apparently he tried to track him but every time he did he'd get distracted." Both Jazz and Prowl recalled what was written in Nightbeat's notes regarding the contents of Brawl's case. "Well I got bad news for you fellas," sneered Thunderhoof, "I have no idea what was in it and I had no clue where he took it, that's exactly what I told your detective friend."

"You had no idea?" snapped Prowl, "I thought he worked for you."

Thunderhoof growled in frustration. "I wasn't the one who gave him that job, it was Steeljaw. Sometimes Steeljaw gives 'em work and sometimes it's me, alright? I don't know what the job was though so don't bother asking."

Prowl sighed. "Alright, so can you at least tell us which club the detective was interested in?"

Thunderhoof shrugged with a mocking smile. "Sorry but Steeljaw has over a hundred of 'em here in the city. Brawl could have gone to any of 'em."

Prowl was starting to look frustrated. "The one you supply a bulk load of these to!" He raised the canisters of Knockout's drugs. 

Taking one of the canisters from Prowl, Thunderhoof studied it. "Oh, I send these ones to his exclusive club way up top. Unlike the other clubs that one always orders mountains of this stuff," he chuckled. "It's a real special one too, only those with the shanix to afford what it sells can enter and even those who went in have no clue where it is."

"Where?" asked Prowl sharply.

"Woah, hold on," snapped Thunderhoof, "I can't just tell you that! How do I know you two ain't gonna bust the joint? I didn't tell that detective and I'm sure as hell ain't telling you two."

Prowl looked like he had enough. "Well I guess I'm gonna have to keep Clampdown hidden from you then!" he spat, standing up and preparing to leave.

Thunderhoof slammed a fist down on the table in rage. "Hey we had a deal," he growled, "I told you what I told that detective, so you tell me where I can find that rat!"

"Unless you tell us where that club is you can forget it," snapped Prowl, his glare almost piercing through the crime boss' armour, "what's it going to be?"

Glaring furiously at Prowl with murder in his optics, Thunderhoof chewed on his cygar with irritation as he thought about the offer. He seemed to be thinking of something, possibly trying to find a way to get his desired information without revealing the club's location. "I ain't telling you where this club is," he answered, "but I do have something that might interest you."

"What exactly would that be?" sneered Prowl, folding his arms and scowling at him.

"When Brawl kicked the can I had my bots search his place," said Thunderhoof, "and we found something interesting. It was the item he acquired from the Mortal Sol's place."

"He managed to get it?" asked Jazz, a little surprised.

"He must've smuggled it out after getting fired," muttered Thunderhoof with a shrug, "only it became worthless to him, as well as to me."

"Why?" asked Prowl.

"The guy who wanted it turned up dead," replied Thunderhoof. "The item is of no use to me. I'll trade that with you for Clampdown. Deal?"

It was Prowl who suddenly seemed intrigued by this new offer. "Alright," he said, "let's have it."

As Thunderhoof ordered one of his henchmechs to fetch something Jazz leaned down to whisper in Prowl's audios, shocked that he would agree to such a thing. "What are doin'?" he hissed, "we need the name of the club!"

"He won't tell us no matter what," whispered Prowl calmly, "we're just going to have to find it on our own. Besides this item Brawl had might help us further in the investigation."

"What if it doesn't?" asked Jazz.

"It will," claimed Prowl confidently, "I'm certain it will."

Jazz sighed as he stood back up. He was just going to have to trust Prowl on this one and he hoped it would assist them somehow with the case. If it didn't then they were stuck without a bargaining chip unless Prowl dug up another crook's profile who Thunderhoof wanted dead. They hadn't learned much from Thunderhoof, other than Brawl had worked for him and also worked for Steeljaw whilst up and n the Towers, and that Nightbeat was looking for a certain club but Thunderhoof wasn't telling them the name or where it was. Did Nightbeat ever find the club? What was so special about the club? It was painfully clear their investigation was far from over and Jazz felt like they were still stuck around square one.

As he stood there lost in his thoughts the lights suddenly dimmed and the announcer on the stage stepped forward. "Gentlemechs and gentlefemmes, the Ment is proud to present the Alluring Flame."

A few catcalls and whistles echoed around the room as a spotlight suddenly lit up on a single spot on the stage, the curtains raising to reveal a stunning red and golden mech draped in veil of shimmering mesh. Although it was a little difficult to make him out from under that veil, he was still incredibly beautiful and sexy as hell, even Jazz could not deny. As a slow and bewitching song began to play, the mech began to dance exotically to the music, swaying his hips in a captivating way. Thunderhoof relaxed back into his chair as he enjoyed the show, gulping down his drink whilst he kept his optics locked on the dancing mech. Prowl ignored the dancer as he waited patiently for the item he asked for.

After some time had passed the henchmech had returned carrying a folder. He placed it down before Thunderhoof who almost never noticed since his optics were glued on the dancer. He did notice however when Prowl tried to take it. "Hey now," he growled, "you better keep your end of the deal when I give this to you."

"I give you my word," hissed Prowl, getting tired of the atmosphere in the club. Thunderhoof sighed as he tossed the folder over to Prowl, watching as he opened it up to see the contents within. "This is it?" asked Prowl unimpressed.

Jazz leaned down to have a look and he what he saw confused and shocked him. It was nothing more but a digital print of the Mortal Sol. The print only displayed his upper body and he appeared to be lying on a strange looking berth, with his arms folded across his golden chassis as he stared forward with a dreamy look in his optics. It looked like a print from a fashion photo shoot for a magazine or something. This is was what Brawl was asked to find? Why would he risk his position as the Mortal Sol's body guard for this print?

"I was a little surprised myself that he managed to get a hold of this," mused Thunderhoof, still glancing over at the dancer on the stage. "He hid it in his apartment with the name of the guy he was supposed to sell it to, some chump called Fritzer. 'Course he's dead now. Heard he fell into some shuttle tracks. Not my doing by the way."

"Why is this worthless to you?" asked Jazz, finding that little detail odd, "prints of models are worth a fortune and this one is of the Mortal Sol, the most popular model trendin' right now." He had lived in the Towers long enough to know that a single digital print of a model was worth more than a Prime's palace refurbished.

"True," replied Thunderhoof, manoeuvring the cygar from one of his mouth to the other, "see, if I were to sell this print of such an exclusive model there is always a risk it might get traced back to me. They're super hot items you see. Last time I acquired such a print I had to wait over a millennia before I could sell it, it's just not worth the hassle to wait for it to cool down. The other reason is a little bit of a mystery to me."

"And what would that be?" asked Jazz.

"Nobody wants any of the Mortal Sol's personal things down here," huffed Thunderhoof, "I get asked for the Airborne Queen's old grease rags, the Blue Flame's used wax buffers, and even oral samples from the Saint Sublime, but no one ever requests anything from the Mortal Sol. Maybe Brawl was collecting 'em and selling 'em up top under Steeljaw's orders, I dunno."

It certainly would explain why Brawl transported that case to and fro from the Mortal Sol's estate to one of Steeljaw's clubs, but Jazz wondered if it was indeed a case full of Sunstreaker's used rags and coolant samples to sell to weirdos and perverts up top, why was the case so big? Did he collect a large supply of them so he could give them Steeljaw in a bulk? 

"Now, if we're finished," muttered Thunderhoof, extending his hand towards Prowl.

Prowl sighed as he dumped a data chip in the crime mech's hand. "His location is encoded within, and if I require anything else-"

"You know where to find me, yeah, yeah now beat it," snarled the crime boss, focusing his full attention upon the dancer on the stage.

Jazz and Prowl took that as their cue to leave, quickly leaving the club and returning to the shabby motel. Once back in their rundown room, Prowl studied the runt with careful optics. He scanned every single pixel, trying to find anything within it that could help their investigation. Jazz merely stood by and kept guard in case Thunderhoof sent some goons to deal with them.

"Anythin'?" asked Jazz, hoping Prowl's hunch was right.

Prowl was silent for a moment as he squinted at the print. "There is something off about the print," he muttered, "but I'm going to need an opinion from an expert."

"An expert? Shouldn't be hard, this city is full of photographers," stated Jazz.

"We can't trust anyone with this print," sighed Prowl, "fortunately I know of such an expert."

"Who?" asked Jazz.

Prowl suddenly appeared annoyed with himself, rubbing his brow with a frustrated hand. "I'm going to have to make a call," he sighed, "until then you keep hold of this."

Jazz was stunned when the print was shoved into his hand. "Prowl if I get caught with this I could get fired or somethin'."

"You have to," ordered Prowl, "if the mech I call doesn't show up, you'll have to use those advanced crime investigation labs up top. They're actually quite easy to use, those Teletraan programs are quite helpful."

Jazz sighed as he stared down at the print, the picture of Sunstreaker staring back at him. He was going to have to find s good hiding place for this, he didn't want to get caught with it and end up like Brawl. As he stared at it he could not help but notice something was off. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was a nagging feeling in his mind telling him that there was something he was overlooking in the print.

"By the way," said Prowl, "that Sideswipe has a sword, yes?"

Jazz rolled his optics and sighed angrily. "Prowl I already told you," he muttered, "I checked the sword and there was no sign of it ever bein' used."

Prowl appeared unconvinced. "The autopsy on Brawl reveals evidence that the killing blow was delivered with a certain blade, a blade that could slice open the sturdiest of armour without the wielder even trying." Prowl crossed his arms and stared at Jazz intensely. "I learned that the kid bought such a weapon; that limited edition blade."

What? That couldn't be right. Jazz was certain that sword in Sideswipe's possession had never been used. "Prowl I can bring it down for you to study, but I'm tellin' you that the blade the kid owns hasn't been used to kill anyone."

"Did he purchase a second blade?" asked Prowl, still staring at Jazz with accusation in his optics.

"I... I dunno," sighed Jazz. He only found the one blade in Sideswipe's messy room and the kid never mentioned about having a second one. He didn't appear happy when Jazz confiscated his sword so maybe he never mentioned the second blade, if he had one.

"Well when you return up top, check every inch of his room," ordered Prowl, "I want to be absolutely certain. If you do find it, let me know at once."

Jazz frowned bitterly as Prowl packed up the last of his gear before they vacated the room. Prowl seemed so certain that Sideswipe was guilty of Nightbeat's murder, but Jazz didn't see a murderer when he looked at the kid. When he looked at Sideswipe all he saw was a young mech desperate for someone to notice him, but not desperate enough to kill. Just how was he going to prove something like that to someone like Prowl?


	11. Chapter 11

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, peeping on someone  
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Standing outside the door to Sideswipe's room, Jazz made an agitated grunt. According to one of the maids Sideswipe went out to purchase some more cleaning products, as he almost depleted their supplies. It meant he had enough time to go in and have a look for this possible second sword but for some reason he was feeling hesitant.

"C'mon Jazz," he huffed at himself, reaching for the door handle.

Maybe it was because if there was a second sword he didn't want to find it. Prowl didn't have any evidence of there being another one owned by Sideswipe, but he was 100% certain that the sword used to kill Brawl was the same type that Sideswipe owned, a fusion forged dark titanium blade. The sword Jazz had confiscated from Sideswipe was in pristine condition, so if it wasn't that one then there might be another. Jazz pointed out that someone else could have bought a similar blade, but Prowl had checked and that particular sword was produced in limited quantities and only two had been sold in the Towers. The other sword was purchased by a collector up in the city, but a while back it was reported stolen and hadn't been seen since. Prowl was going to investigate the stolen sword but in the meantime he wanted Jazz to search the Mortal Sol's property for it.

"If I didn't know any better, I swear Prowl wants to blame this on the kid," muttered Jazz as he entered the room.

Jazz could not deny the questionable evidence against Sideswipe, but Jazz was certain that he wasn't the one who killed Nightbeat. After all there wasn't a particular reason why Sideswipe would. Come to think of it, what was the reason Nightbeat was killed? He was investigating things revolving around secret clubs and drug suppliers. Was it possible that the owner of these clubs caught wind of a detective snooping around his business? That Steeljaw gave off a foul odour despite his charm.

Anyway, Jazz was going to prove to Prowl that Sideswipe wasn't the killer by searching for a sword he knew he wasn't going to find. After shutting the door behind him, Jazz looked about and wondered where to start. Sideswipe had cleared a great deal of the mess away and there were piles of boxes with words written on them like "junk" and "garbage" and some other words that made no sense. There were a few cupboards here and there but Jazz thought they were too obvious. He still opened them to be certain but the only things he found inside were armour buffers and spare armour plating.

"If I were a lil' punk with an attitude, where would I hide a dangerous item?" When he first found Sideswipe's sword it was leaning next to a shelf in plain sight. "He might have wised and put some thought into..." Jazz then looked over at the berth, recalling how Sideswipe hid a few things under there. "I wonder?"

Jazz kneeled down and raised the sheets, peering into the enclosed space. There were some more boxes filled with an assortment of interesting knick knacks. He pulled them all out and checked every single one, finding used data novels, strange little collectable objects, spare audio-phones, music tracks, and junk that Sideswipe must have treasured for some reason. He even found a small case containing glasses, confusing Jazz a little since Sideswipe never wore any. He checked them all and found no evidence of another sword.

It made him a little satisfied not to find the weapon, but searching for it made Jazz think about a few things. Sideswipe was present on the bridge not long before Nightbeat died, the security footage proved that. Nightbeat wasn't killed by a sword, he was pushed off the bridge and he died upon impact. If Sideswipe was the one who committed the crime, what reason did he have to kill him? Sure the kid committed a few petty crimes in his life but none of them were worthy of Nightbeat's attention, only Nightbeat was investigating a cold case. Unless Sideswipe did something in the past.

"Oh great, now I'm suspectin' him too," muttered Jazz.

He didn't want to think of Sidewipe as a killer. He was just so likeable and decent now that he wasn't acting like an anti social brat, he was even a little adorable when he did something embarrassing. He was eager to learn and quick to amend his mistakes, even though he had to get pushed a little. Jazz sighed as he thought back to those moments he shared with Sideswipe and in all those memories he didn't see a murderer, he saw a young energetic mech with a smile that could make your spark implode.

"Gah," huffed Jazz as that smile got stuck in his head, "enough of that."

He was about to stand up when he spotted something atop one of the boxes. Picking it up Jazz found it was a digital print album. Intrigued a little he opened it up and the first print he saw made him say "awww" very loudly. The print displayed two protoforms bundled up in mesh blankets, the one on the left was sleeping and the one on the right was looking around with tired optics whilst sucking away on a pacifier. Below the print were some words reading, "You and Me! Day one!" in fancy letters. Turning the next page he "aww'd" again when saw the two proforms again only they were a bit bigger and sitting up. The one on the right was clearly Sideswipe as his helm looked a little spiky and the left one bore a sleek rounded helm similar to Sunstreaker. The words under the print read, "Day 2! We look cute!" with a little star graffitied next to it. On the next page the protoforms were now sparklings, their colours had come out and they sat upon a bench looking at the photographer with curious optics. Under that print it read, "Day 3! Off to Chrome Fields!" 

Jazz was so caught up with the adorable prints he almost didn't hear the loud voices that were approaching the room. One of them he recognised to be Sideswipe and the other one sounded like Sunstreaker. Cursing he dropped the album and looked around for a hiding place. If he got caught in here he might get fired and he could forget about trying to solve this mystery. The voices drew closer and having no choice Jazz dashed over to a large closet and shut the doors. He was just in time for the bedroom doors flew open and in stomped Sideswipe.

"I'm not telling you again Sunstreaker," huffed Sideswipe, marching across the room in anger, "I'm not going! Ever!"

Sunstreaker suddenly walked into the room and Jazz watched through a visible crack in the closet as he calmly followed his brother. "But Sideswipe, it's the Award Ceremony of the season," pleaded the model, "everyone will be bringing the one they adore the most and I want to bring you."

Sideswipe made a frustrated sound before retorting. "Remember what happened last time I went to that bore fest? I was mistaken for party crasher and got into a fight with security," he snapped.

"To be fair, you were the one who started throwing punches," sighed Sunstreaker.

"He called me a lowlife slag eater! How'd you think I'd react?" growled Sideswipe.

Sunstreaker looked saddened by this and sat upon a nearby seat. "If you like I can get you to stay in the VIP section?" he offered in a sing song voice, "I hear that famous DJ from Iacon is coming, he plays those songs you like. I could even arrange a meeting?"

Sideswipe folded his arms and glared at his brother in spite. "After what happened last time? No thanks."

"I didn't mean-..." Sunstreaker tried to think of something to say, only realising what he just said. "Look I know you aren't exactly liked around here, but who cares what they think." He then jumped up and trotted over to Sideswipe. "I still love you."

Sideswipe's cheeks turned a little pink but he still appeared angry. "I'm not a sparkling anymore," he huffed.

"You're still as cute as one," cooed Sunstreaker, bearing a warm smile.

"Oh come on Sunny," whined Sideswipe, "you always do this. Whenever we get into an argument, you try and end it by telling me how you think I'm cute and adorable. Well it's not gonna work this time! I'm not going."

Sunstreaker made a sad "aw" sound. "I just don't want to leave you on your own."

"Then I'll go out to a club or something," argued Sideswipe.

"You know I hate those places," muttered Sunstreaker, "they're filled with lowlives and petty crooks and drug addicts and-"

"At least they don't judge me there," snapped Sideswipe, "they're either too busy dancing, too busy drinking, or too busy getting high to notice me."

"But surely you get scared in such places?" asked Sunstreaker, looking frightfully concerned, "you know what you're like in crowds."

Sideswipe rolled his optics and sighed in frustration. "That's only when I'm surrounded by those snobs you work with," he spat. Sunstreaker looked like he was fumbling with his fingers as he tried to think of something to say. "I'm surprised you haven't ordered me yet," hissed Sideswipe.

"Sideswipe I didn't make you my property just to boss you about," gasped Sunstreaker, "I did it to save you. They were going to give you a life sentence and I couldn't bear to see you rusting away in a cold cell."

That statement made Sideswipe look a tad bit guilty but he still held on to his stubbornness. "That didn't stop you from enforcing a curfew on me," he muttered.

"I did it because I love you," said Sunstreaker in a strained voice.

"Can you stop saying that," sighed Sideswipe, "it's weird when you say it." 

"Really?" chuckled Sunstreaker, "you used to love it when I told you that. Sunny, please tell me you love me! You were so cute way back then, and you still are."

Sideswipe blushed even more. "We were little way back then," he said, "I was just saying it because-"

"Because you loved me too," giggled Sunstreaker, "you were such a protoform. You wanted me to hold your hand in the dark, read you berth time stories, get you a glass of energon at night."

"Oh yeah," sneered Sideswipe, "you acted like the protoform when I had to take that baby space slug off your back."

Sunstreaker shivered. "Don't remind me"

"You ran around the whole garden, screaming and crying," teased Sideswipe, a sly grin had now formed upon his face.

Sunstreaker shivered an little more violently then before. "I absolutely detest slimy things," he whimpered.

"Not as much as mulch puddles," continued Sideswipe, taking pleasure in reminding his brother of his fears. "Remember the one right outside the back door?"

"Must you remind me of everything I detested when I was little?" whined Sunstreaker.

"You started it," cackled Sideswipe.

The two brothers laughed a little, their memories of when they were young together ended that little spat between. As Jazz watched from his hiding space, he was a little touched by the scene, as well as worried that he might get caught. It did start out as s bitter argument between the two but it soon became a nostalgic talk between two loving siblings. Jazz rarely saw the two brothers act like this when they were together, in fact he rarely saw them together. Sunstreaker was always going on about his work when Sideswipe was around or he was pulling the strings a little on his brothers life. Jazz recalled that Sunstreaker had said that he adored his brother above all else but at the time he didn't really believe him. Now that he was secretly watching them interact with each other, it was safe to say that there was a genuine bond between them.

"Oh, I haven't seen this in a while." Jazz winced when he saw Sunstreaker bend down to pick up the album he had dropped.

"How did that get there?" muttered Sideswipe, looking puzzled at the album's sudden appearance.

"Oh Sides, look at how cute we were," mused Sunstreaker, looking inside the album.

Sideswipe peered at the print Sunstreaker showed him. "Argh, I look ridiculous," he sighed.

"Nonsense, you're just as adorable as me," giggle Sunstreaker, turning a few more pages, "oh look, our first spark day!"

Sideswipe chuckled a little upon seeing the print. "The worst one if I recall. Remember Matron Solder? She tried to take my present away from me!"

"You mean Mister Nibbles?" teased Sunstreaker.

"Hey, you promised to never mention Mister Nibbles ever again," gasped Sideswipe, getting flustered all of a sudden.

"Don't you still have him in here?" asked Sunstreaker, looking about the room.

"He is," confirmed Sideswipe, "and you won't find him."

"Well I might have a chance to locate him since you tidied your room," chuckled Sunstreaker, putting the album on the table. "I'm still shocked that you suddenly decided to clean up this place. I used to get scared coming in here."

Sideswipe instantly forgot about the album and appeared nervous. "Oh y'know, I thought the place needed a good clean. Nobody ordered me to or anything." Jazz felt the need to face palm after that.

"It's such shame about the vanity set," sighed Sunstreaker, looking at the broken mirror, "why on Cybertron would you break it?"

Sideswipe sighed sadly. "I just got... tired."

Sunstreaker looked over at Sideswipe with a sympathetic gaze. "Sideswipe I told you this over a thousand times; you're not ugly. Those idiots just think you're too ordinary, when they fail to see what you really are! My adorable twin brother."

"You wouldn't know what it's like," huffed Sideswipe, "you were born with the looks and I got the leftovers. I mean you know that fourth guy I dated?"

"Was he the one with the spikes on his arms?" queried Sunstreaker.

"No, that was the second," corrected Sideswipe, "anyway, I used to spend two hours at the vanity set putting on all that crap that's supposed to make you out of this world, and he still dumped me for being too... argh." Sideswipe didn't finish but it was obvious what he was going to say.

Sunstreaker stood there for a moment, looking at Sideswipe with sympathy and care. He then moved in closer and, much to Jazz's shock, he hugged him. The no touch policy applied to everyone, even Sideswipe, and touching a model was one of the most highest offences you could commit. 

"Sunny," whined Sideswipe, getting embarrassed once more, "you're gonna get me in trouble if you keep hugging me."

"No ones looking silly," giggled Sunstreaker, "I love you too much."

Sideswipe huffed in annoyance as his brother nuzzled him and his cheeks flared up again, but he did lean into the hug, sighing as the warmth enveloped him. Jazz felt like he shouldn't be watching this but it was genuinely nice to see how much they really did care about each other. Sunstreaker was always do strict on Sideswipe when they were in public. Maybe he only acted like that to save face with his career or something. It was also a splendid thing to see how relaxed Sideswipe looked in his brother's arms. 

Sunstreaker slowly pulled away from the embrace, smiling warmly at his brother. "Since our spark day is coming up, I thought we could go see that laser festival over at the floating gardens. Just you, me, and I'm going have to bring the bodyguard. Still, it'll be fun." Jazz felt slightly offended with the way Sunstreaker said that, but it was understandable.

"That sounds cool," replied Sideswipe, sounding a little anxious. "I mean, are you able to get away from work? Isn't this like a super busy period for you?"

"Sideswipe I promise we'll go, if you please come with me to the award ceremony, please, please, please," begged Sunstreaker, "I want to show you off."

Sideswipe rolled his optics. "Fine, but I want a back seat, far away from those idiotic lug brains," huffed Sideswipe, giving in to his brother's demands.

Sunstreaker jumped with joy. "Ooooh, I got to book a spa for the occasion! Maybe rent out a private sector of the garden just got ourselves! Oh, and a tallow cake, a big one!"

As Sunstreaker dashed about the room and ranted about his plans for a special spark day celebration with excitement glowing in his optics, Sideswipe appeared a little uneasy. "Just don't overdo it please?" he begged, "I'll settle for a nice and simple spark day."

"Oh but it's a special one Sideswipe, a chortled Sunstreaker, "now I have to make a call. I'll see you later." With that he skipped out of the room with a huge smile upon his face.

With Sunstreaker gone, Jazz now wondered how long Sideswipe would hang around before he stepped out. He couldn't just jump out of his hiding place, for Sideswipe might get upset that with him for spying on him and his brother. He could only watch as Sideswipe shuffled over to his berth and slumped down onto it. He reached for a pair of audio phones and laid back, resting his head upon his arms as he lost himself to the music. 

"Why does he always hug me?" muttered Sideswipe, staring at the ceiling and unaware of the second presence in the room. "He should be hating me, after all that I did."

It was obvious that Sideswipe wasn't going to leave anytime soon and Jazz cursed again, knowing that if he tried to sneak off the red mech might see him. He could only hope that Sideswipe would fall asleep or something and that it would be soon. So he waited. He waited and waited but Sideswipe was still wide awake. He would get up, pluck a data novel off the shelf and read it, lay it to the side and roll over whilst staring off into space, get up to put the novel back and then back to listening to his music. Jazz was starting to get stiff.

"C'mon kid," whispered Jazz, wanting to get out before anyone realised he was gone.

Then at long last Sideswipe got up and walked over to his en suite, muttering something about getting cleaned up. Jazz waited until the door to the en suite closed and the sound of hissing water could be heard before quietly stepping out of his hiding place. Jazz crept over to the door as fast as he could and opened it, but as he was about to step outside he saw a shadow moving towards him. Thinking it was Sunstreaker he quickly shut the door but made a noticeable noise as he did.

"Hello?" came Sideswipe's voice from the en suite, "is someone there?"

Jazz cringed but at least Sideswipe was assuming that someone had just entered the room. "It's me," he said aloud, pretending he only just came in.

The sound of rushing water stopped and Sideswipe poked his head out the door. "Jazz? Why d'you always come in without knocking?" he asked, "is there something you wanted? I'm kinda in the middle of washing."

Jazz intended to leave and backed towards the door. "Oh it's nothin' important, I'll catch you another time," he said.

The red mech however suddenly seemed curious. "I won't be long," promised Sideswipe, "just give me a sec." He then returned to the en suite leaving Jazz alone for a while.

"Scrap," muttered Jazz, trying to come up with a good excuse why he had come to see Sideswipe. 

Before he could even think of one, Sideswipe hopped out of the en suite, still rubbing himself off with a towel. "So what is it?" he asked, drying off the damp parts of his body.

"Er..." Jazz couldn't believe he was actually stumped on this, he was usually a fast thinker and could come up with an excuse at the flick of his hand, yet he was having now having trouble thinking of a basic excuse for the red mech before him. "I, um, wanted to know if you wanted to do some trainin'... tonight?" He wanted to slap himself after those words left his mouth.

Sideswipe hung the towel around his shoulders and appeared puzzled. "Didn't you ask me this earlier?"

Jazz could feel his head spin as he desperately tried to find a solution. "I thought that maybe... you might wanna do somethin' a little more... advanced? I dunno... like... er... two handed sword fightin'?" Jazz instantly regretted suggesting that.

This suddenly made Sideswipe's optics widen, all of that. "Y'mean two swords at once?" he stammered in excitement.

Jazz didn't really want to teach him something like that due to the fact it was something that was complicated and super advanced, but he had no other choice. "Sure," he said with a painful grin.

Sideswipe dropped the towel and made a squeaky like sound as he clutched his fists. "That would be so cool! I always wanted to try that!" He started swinging both his arms, pretending he had swords in each of them and even mimicked swishing sounds. "That's like advanced swordfighting, one of the most advanced techniques you could learn!"

As the red mech continued to pretend he was slicing two blades through the air and jumping around like a sparkling, Jazz had the urge to knock himself out. Why did he say that? What on Cybertron was he thinking? It was the first thing that popped into his head, though he wasn't sure why and he would normally think twice before even considering of saying such a risky idea. He wasn't usually like this, he was quick thinking and alert but for some reason his mind just slowed down to a space slug pace.

Before he even realised it, Sideswipe had clutched his hands and jumped up and down like a sparkling on a engex rush. "This is going to be so cool! What time shall we meet up? Do I have to bring extra gear? Can we duel?" The questions went on and on.

 

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Sitting at the training track in the TFG, Jazz stared up at the heavens as the stars stared back down at him, his current mood was a mixture of unwanted and unknown feelings. He was waiting for Sideswipe to show up, the red mech was incredibly ecstatic to get some special training. Jazz was still in a slump for agreeing to teach Sideswipe such an advanced technique, worried that he could injure the red mech. Hell, so far they only did one training session together. When Jazz was learning how to combat with two swords he came out with so many injuries, cuts and dents that he himself caused and that was after he learned the basic stance, and even then he used training sticks. He was still flummoxed at how easily he lost his cool back at the estate. Maybe it was because he was still panicking after almost getting caught trespassing, thus his mind went into a haze and he just blurted out what came to mind.

It was too late now, the damage was done and he promised to teach Sideswipe how to wield two swords at once no matter what. He was going to have to be extra cautious with him tonight, not wanting him to get cut or bruised. Sunstreaker would get awfully upset if he noticed the damage on his twin and if he traced it back to him trespassing was the least of his concerns. Maybe if he demonstrated a few moves first, a couple of jumps and a few slices should impress him, also it was just to give him an idea of what to expect, hopefully he'd understand how risky this all was. Sideswipe was quite observant from what he had seen so far and even though they only had one lesson so far, Sideswipe was a fast and keen learner.

"Jazz! I'm here!"

Jazz looked up to see when he heard his name and not so far away he saw Sideswipe running over to him, already worn out and tired from the running but still bore the aura of eagerness. He skidded to a halt before Jazz, venting hard and dripping with coolant. He must have run all the way from the Heights to get here, which Jazz found to be impressive. Sideswipe waited until his spark pulse went back down to a reasonable rate before standing up straight and clapping his hands once. "Are we ready to start?"

"Cool your jets kid," chuckled Jazz, standing up from where he sat. "Looks like the run you made to get here got you all warmed up, so do a few stretches and I'll get it all ready."

Sideswipe nodded with glee and began to stretch his weary limbs. "Sorry I'm late," he gasped, "right after my shift I took a nap and I guess I slept longer than I thought. I had to double time it down here, almost got run over but-"

"Alright, alright," laughed Jazz, holding two training blades in his hands, "now before we begin, I'm gonna show you how it's done."

Sideswipe's optics immediately locked onto the training blades Jazz held, his optics widening with glee and he almost fell over whilst stretching off his legs. "Oh Primus, are you going to do some super cool move, jump through the air and cut down like-"

Jazz pressed the tip of one of the training blades against Sideswipe's lips. "You keep talkin' and you're gonna miss out on the show." The red mech blushed a little and nodded, sitting upon a bench and staring intensely at Jazz. Moving back to put enough space between him and Sideswipe, Jazz flexed a little before beginning. "Handling two swords at the same time is near an' all, but unless you master it correctly you're gonna end up hurtin' yourself. I'm just goin' to show you some basics to give you a decent idea." He stepped back a bit further. "Now the trick is to keep your focus on your balance, keep the grip on both blades equal, and don't step over yourself. It's all about control."

Taking a deep vent Jazz started with a simple double lunge, keeping it nice and basic just as he had intended. The move was considered the basics of the basics, but everyone had to start somewhere. He glanced over to see Sideswipe looking enthralled, his grin wide and bright despite it being one of the less exciting moves. Jazz then did another simple move and yet again it made the glow in Sideswipe's optics brighten. Once more he did a backwards defence position quickly followed with a counter strike. It all made Sideswipe gasp aloud and clap a little. Although the stances he pulled off so far weren't exactly optic catching, Jazz could not deny that it felt good to have the red mech appreciate him. 

"Likin' it so far kid?" asked Jazz. Sideswipe responded with a rapid nod. "Alright then," said Jazz with a small chortle.

Deciding to pick it up a notch Jazz demonstrated a spiral slash, spinning gracefully around with the training blades in his hands, the air around him moving with him. Sideswipe almost fell over backwards with shock and excitement.

"What was that!?" gasped Sideswipe, sitting up.

Jazz smirked a little, feeling a little brash. "That was just a lil' move to get yourself out of a sticky situation," explained Jazz, "y'know, like when you're surrounded."

"What else? What else?" begged Sideswipe.

"Well, there is this one," suggested Jazz, preparing himself as he squatted down and then somersaulted through the air, the blades spinning with him.

Sideswipe was awestruck with what he saw. As Jazz continued to show off his moves, the red mech watched with captivated optics. He would ask the name of each move, clap when Jazz did something insane, and nearly squeal with glee when Jazz did something that, unless you were watching, you'd think it was impossible. Jazz himself didn't even realise that he was now just showing off for Sideswipe. He used to show off before back at the black ops training grounds but back then he did it just to show the others his superiority over the art of sword fighting, finding pleasure in watching trainees gape at him and knowing that they were no match for Jazz. Right now he just found it so delightful to entertain Sideswipe, his praise felt so rewarding somehow. He had praise before but to have it coming from the young mech he had only known for a few days, it just felt really good. So he continued to show off, demonstrating highly advanced moves that nearly made Sideswipe fall over in shock. For a finale he preformed a move that gave him his unbeatable reputation, but it was also a little risky.

"Last one for the night kid," he promised, reversing back a few feet away.

Taking a few deep vents he threw both of his swords up into the air, the sharp metal spinning as they flew higher and higher. As soon as they left his hands Jazz instantly transformed, his wheels screeching as he accelerated forward. Aiming for a small mound, he used it to help himself catapult up into the air. Once his blades were in reach he forced himself to rotate, converting back into his bipedal mode. With jaw dropping style he grabbed each of his blades, still high in the sky as he clutched them both in each hand. The next part of the stunt was to use both blades to simultaneously strike a single spot, but as he looked towards his landing spot he saw a big problem.

"Aw scrap."

His landing spot was full of onyx trees he failed to account for. Not wanting to injure himself, Jazz had no choice but to use his built in grappling hooks that Prowl had installed when he joined the black ops. Everything slowed down as he tried to find something to latch onto and he spotted a large overhead street light. Quickly activating his grapples, Jazz aimed for the street light. The wire wrapped itself around it and Jazz found himself falling in a new direction. He spun round the sturdy post, releasing the grapples and landing back on the ground in a not so classy finish but at least it was a safe finish. Jazz sighed with relief once he was back on solid ground, vowing to never do that again.

"That was amazing!" screeched Sideswipe, jogging over to join him. "I never seen anything like it! It was totally rad! Are you going to teach me that?"

Deciding not to inform the kid that the whole stunt was improvised, Jazz straightened himself out and bore a smug grin. "Ah no, that move is way outta your league kid," he stated, "I just gave you a taste of what you can accomplish if you put your mind to it." Sideswipe looked a little disappointed but still appeared excited. As he skipped back over to the track, Jazz released a huge sigh of relief. "I ain't ever doin' that again," he huffed.

After recovering from all the excitement Jazz proceeded to train with Sideswipe. They started off with the basics of single sword fighting, recapping from what Sideswipe had learnt last time and helping him improve on it. Jazz then taught his young pupil the vital areas a sword could easily damage and how to strike them and how to use his sword to protect his own vital spots. He didn't teach him too much that night as he didn't want his brain to overload with an onslaught of information. The night dragged on and as their training near its completion, Jazz decided to allow Sideswipe to hold two training blades at once. Sideswipe looked thrilled as he clutched them both and attempted to swing them around. Jazz stopped him, fearing he would get hurt.

"Alright, now let's do a real simple and safe move," ordered Jazz, standing close.

Sideswipe nodded. "Will it be cool?"

"I think it's a cool one," promised Jazz, "now hold them correctly." Sideswipe attempted to hold the swords the right way but it was still wrong. "No, no, like this." He shifted until he was standing right behind the red mech, wrapping his large hands around Sideswipe's smaller ones. "Ok, now let's do this slow time."

Jazz slowly guided Sideswipe's hands as he moved them the way they needed to go, instructing him when and how to move his feet. He took extra care as he held him, not wanting to get him hurt as the training blades glided through the air in perfect control. It took him a few tries before he got the movement right but slowly and surely Sideswipe was getting the gist of it. Jazz would help he repeat a move, telling him how he could improve it and to use his venting to help him stay in balance. Sideswipe seemed happy yet nervous with what he was doing, doing as he was told and listening to every instruction Jazz gave him. Jazz couldn't see Sideswipe's face but he could tell that the young mech was smiling, an aura of happiness wafting from his spark. He would trip and mess up a little here and there, but the pair of them would laugh it off awkwardly and continue.

As he continued to guide him through the correct positions, Jazz couldn't help but notice how small Sideswipe's hands were in his own large hands. He had noticed before but now that he held them he could not help but notice. He was actually surprised he hadn't crushed them yet with the way he held them. In fact Sideswipe was rather delicate in general. He liked to act he was tough and all but now that Jazz was holding him he couldn't help but acknowledge his petite frame. It made him cute somehow. He mentally slapped himself, asking why he suddenly lost his concentration just to admire the mech he was training.

"Seriously Jazz, what is with you and red mechs?" his conscious snapped.

"Am I doing it right?" asked Sideswipe. 

"W'uh?" Jazz looked down to see Sideswipe's upside down face staring up at him.

"I said, am I doing it right?" repeated the red mech.

"Oh yeah, yeah. You're doin' good," replied Jazz, deciding to step away to allow him to try out the moves by himself. "Alright, a few more go's and we'll call it a night."

Time passed as their secret training continued, Jazz showing and explaining whilst Sideswipe practised and learned. Soon they were walking back to the estate to rest, both tired but feeling happy with how the night went. Sideswipe was still ecstatic after being taught two handed sword combat, jumping around as he mimicked the moves Jazz had taught him. Jazz was just glad neither Sideswipe or himself got hurt, thanking his lucky stars that nothing serious happened.

"Hey Jazz, can we go eat?" suggested Sideswipe, "Bex is still open."

Jazz wasn't in the mood for decorated energon. "Is there an energon stand we can just eat from?" he asked, "I ain't eatin' that overpriced scrap."

Sideswipe glanced around the long street, spotting an energon bites stand. He ran off to grab a couple of wraps filled with the chewy bites, offering one to Jazz. "So I have to ask," queried Sideswipe, shoving done of the bites into his mouth, "have you ever tried fighting with three swords?"

"Well I knew a guy who could battle with four swords," replied Jazz.

"Really?" gasped Sideswipe.

"Of course he had four arms," chuckled Jazz.

Sideswipe muttered an unimpressed "oh" as he walked next to Jazz. "How long did it take you to master two?"

"It took me at least thirty years before I was confident enough to fight someone with two swords," replied Jazz, "I was something of a prodigy back at training."

"Oh really," sneered Sideswipe, a playful tone of sarcastic in his voice.

"I was," protested Jazz with a grin, "I passed all my exams first time round, broke all the records. I was practically a livin' legend."

"So how many exams did you have to take to get a bodyguard qualification?" asked Sideswipe, growing curious about Jazz's training days.

"Err... It took me at least a century before I earned it," replied Jazz, thinking of his black ops training.

"A century?" Sideswipe appeared confused. "I thought it only took half a century to pass the course."

Scrap. "I took an advanced course," lied Jazz.

Sideswipe seemed to have bought that and continued to munch away on his snack. "So how old were you when you decided to be a bodyguard?" he asked.

Jazz had to to think about that for it had been a long time since he thought about it. "I was in my early thousands I think," he lamented, recalling how he had grown bored of living a wild street life and grew interested in military service. "I used to hang with this gang in my youth, only I kinda outgrew 'em. Thought it'd be cool to do somethin' interestin' with my life."

"So you decided to be somebody who protected other people?" confirmed Sideswipe.

"Somethin' like that," replied Jazz, "I was a young dreamer and I believed the world was my playground, only I had to learn there were others who played in it too. Y'know, the quiet kids, the cool kids, and the bullies who show up to ruin the fun."

Sideswipe seemed to had like Jazz's analogy on life, and clearly showed he was a little envious. "Wish I could decide what to do with my life," he sighed.

"Oh don't gimme that," snorted Jazz, "you're still young. I mean you're only... how old are you?"

That question appeared to had startled the red mech. "Oh... well I'm going to hit the eight-double-o real soon," he answered sheepishly.

"Wait a sec, you're only 800 years old?" Jazz had assumed that Sideswipe was in his early one thousands, but he was still just a dredager. "I thought you were at least 1500 or somethin'."

"What?" chuckled Sideswipe, a hint embarrassment in that forced laugh, "you're not going to treat me like a little dred are you, mister 50,000?"

"Hey, I ain't over 50,000," protested Jazz. Sideswipe looked at him with an unconvinced look. Jazz looked away for a second before looking back at Sideswipe. "I'm at least 47 and a half, look weren't we talkin' about you givin' up on life?"

Sideswipe sighed, fiddling with the snacks he held in his hands. "I didn't say I gave on it, it's just I can't do anything with it," he explained, lazily tossing one of the bites off the bridge they walked across. "Ever since I signed that damn contract, my life was officially over."

"Y'mean the contract you signed to stay outta jail after attacking your brother?" guessed Jazz, aware about the contract Sunstreaker had his brother sign to keep him out of prison on the condition he remained Sunstreaker's property.

"Yeah," sighed Sideswipe with a nod, "ever since then my life has had fences built around it. I can't do the things I want to do or even leave the city and Sunstreaker gets the final say in everything."

As Sideswipe explained the way of life he was forced to lead, Jazz slowly understood his situation a bit more. His curiosity grew a little and the question that had been on his mind ever since he became Sunstreaker's bodyguard was now dying to come out. "So..." he trailed off a little due to hesitation but he forced the rest of the question out, "why'd you attack him?"

Sideswipe stopped dead in his tracks and was quiet. He appeared to be asking himself the same question only he was aware of the answer. "It was a stupid reason," he huffed bitterly.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't wanna," said Jazz, ignoring that burning desire to know.

"No," sighed Sideswipe, "I needed to get it off my chassis anyway." He then wandered over to a high ledge, hopping over the safety barrier and sat down, his legs hanging over the edge. He waved to Jazz to join him, the large mech cautiously joining him. "Comfy?"

Jazz peered down and felt a little dizzy to see how high they were. "You like talkin' with a vertical drop involved?"

Sideswipe rolled his optics with a snort. "No, I just like to torture you."

"Don't make me push you off kid," threatened Jazz playfully.

The young mech laughed a little and then the silence returned. For a while the two admired the view before them, the lights of the city both bright and flaring and gentle, all at the same time. It was somewhat calming as they watched, making them appreciate the beauty of this vivid and tall city. Jazz glanced over at Sideswipe, the young mech just staring off into the distance as if he was hypnotised by the view before them. He wondered why he suddenly got silent. Maybe he didn't want to tell Jazz about what happened between him and his brother, so he was hoping to change the topic, or make him forget about it all together.

Before Jazz could say anything, Sideswipe finally spoke. "Remember when I told you I used to be in several relationships?"

Jazz wasn't sure what that had to do with anything, but he did recall Sideswipe mentioning a number of failed relationships he went through. In fact now that he thought about it, Sideswipe had dated at least seven times and he wasn't even 800 yet. Jazz had been in a relationship in his dred years but that lasted at least a couple of centuries before they split up. It was common to date a couple of times as a dredager but several times was a little surprising.

"I guess you dated the wrong bots?" Jazz frowned when he noticed that Sideswipe didn't exactly seem happy with what he said.

"More like they dated the wrong bot," huffed Sideswipe, staring at the city with a saddened expression. "The first guy I dated? Our relationship only lasted two days."

Jazz could not help but cringe at that shocking time length. "What happened?" he dared asked.

"He met my brother," replied Sideswipe flatly, "he suddenly showed up to meet my new mechfriend and I was instantly forgotten. Didn't even call me the next day. Well he did call me a week later begging me to ask Sunstreaker to go out with him. He just forgot we were kinda dating."

"Ouch," hissed Jazz, imaging how bad that must have been.

"Next one I dated was this sweet femme," continued Sideswipe, "it lasted a week. She found out halfway through our relationship that I was related to the Mortal Sol and she said that dating me was an embarrassment." He reached down to grab one of those bites he still had and popped one into his mouth. "The third guy I dated was pretty much the same, only that lasted a week and a day and he blamed me for ruining his reputation. Said dating the less attractive twin of a famous model was just awful to his lifestyle." Jazz was starting to sense the pattern as Sideswipe continued. "Fourth guy only dated me to get close to my brother, the fifth one was from a rival company who thought he could use me to get some details about Sunstreaker and got me into trouble, and the sixth one did what the first guy did."

If he had just met Sideswipe he would have found him bad rep on dating quite hilarious, but he had known him for a while to understand how frustrating it must be to live with such a popular celebrity especially when you're trying to date. Jazz now had a good idea why Sideswipe attacked his brother, but he allowed the young mech to continue.

"The last guy I dated," sighed Sideswipe miserably, "I thought he was the one."

"How so?" asked Jazz, trying to sound gentle.

Sideswipe inhaled a large vent before expelling it. "One day this guy came into my old job, said he wanted to meet the one who buffed his armour so good. We talked for a bit and he asked if he could take me out somewhere." Sideswipe began to fiddle with his snack. "I was a little uncertain at first because of all my bad luck in the past, but I guess... I guess I was desperate or something 'cause I went to meet him."

"Desperate?" repeated Jazz, "why were you desperate? Don't tell me-"

"I wasn't desperate in that way," growled Sideswipe in frustration, "I was... I just really want to... you know... I just really wanted to have a-" his face went red and he fumbled with his fingers as he spoke "-a spark mate."

Jazz optics lit up with surprise upon hearing this from the flustered Sideswipe. He wasn't really expecting to hear something like that from a mech so young. Most bots didn't dream of having a spark mate until they had lived for over a least 1000 years. Some prefer to remain single for centuries but it was quite common once you hit the quadruple digits. It was something in the Cybertronian gene that made all Cybertronians prefer to live a 1000 years of freedom before settling down with a chosen spark mate. Sometimes conjunx endura's happened around the 3000 mark, but most bots did not even consider such things until they were somewhere in their 1000's.

"You got a whole life ahead of you kid," assured Jazz, patting Sideswipe on the back, "why are you so keen on gettin' serious with someone?"

Sideswipe sighed heavily in response. "I don't know," he muttered, "it's just I really want to have that special someone in my life. I mean I don't want a conjunx or whatever, I just like to have that one mech or femme who'd be there for me, the one you can depend on an' stuff." He shuffled a little from where he sat. "I thought he was going to be the one, the last guy I dated. We met up and he seemed really interested in me. I was a little weary 'cause I thought he was going use me to get close to Sunstreaker."

"Was he?" asked Jazz.

"No, in fact he said he didn't care that I was related to him. It made me happy when he said that, I usually had to hide that little detail." He popped another bite in his mouth. "We dated for a while and I was just so happy to be with him. He'd tell me that I was perfect and no one else could replace me. I'd brag about him to Sunstreaker and he'd tell me that he was happy for me. It was all going well... until..." Sideswipe huffed again and looked like he recalled something bad. "Sunstreaker invited both him and me to some model award ceremony. I was physced because I thought it was going to be like one of those special couple outings I read about. We got there and everything was going great... until he pulled me aside and said it was over."

Just like this story, that last part came out of no where and it surprised Jazz a great deal. "Hold up," stuttered Jazz, "he just ended it? Just like that?" Jazz was certain he heard something like that before.

"I thought he was kidding," sighed Sideswipe, "but he just said he got tired of me and it was over. Then he just walked out and left me standing there. I tried to chase after him, asking what I did wrong but he just told me to get lost." The mood suddenly grew damp as Sideswipe's expression worsened. "I got super depressed. I just sat on that table and tried not to have a break down whilst downing a few drinks. I really wanted to leave and sulk at home, but before I could my brother received an award and he beckoned me to join him on the stage." Sideswipe crunched the rest if the bites in his hand as he continued. "The moment I got up there with him he cracked a joke about me."

Jazz had a feeling that the joke didn't leave a good impression on Sideswipe. "What'd he say?"

Sideswipe looked angry as he recalled what had happened in the past. "He said, I've been known to ruin relationships, just ask my brother." Sideswipe looked both angry and sad as he continued. "I was shocked that he actually made that joke. I was so angry. The crowd laughed at it and at me. There were so many emotions going through me. I just got dumped by a guy I really liked and my brother insulted me on stage. Something went through my head and the next thing I knew I had slapped my brother across the face."

As Sideswipe slumped forward after recalling the events from the past, Jazz just sat there unable to think of anything reassuring to say. Now that he knew why Sideswipe attacked his brother, he could not fault him on his past actions. It was still wrong to attack him but in some sense it was Sunstreaker who unintentionally provoked him. Though the idea of getting dumped out of no where by a guy who showed interest you was odd, the rest of it seemed to hold water. It still was sad though, this kid really had the worse luck.

"What happened after that?" asked Jazz, already guessing what had happened.

"Well I blacked out after I was tackled off the stage," continued Sideswipe, "and when I came to I was in a cell. I realised what I did and I got scared."

"Because you hit your brother, a high profile model in front of an audience," sighed Jazz, understanding why he was scared. "Touching a model is a high offence here, so I guess hittin' one is an even higher offence."

Sideswipe nodded. "They told me I would go to jail for eons," muttered Sideswipe, "said I was going to rust for eternity. I actually thought I was, but that wasn't the thing that upset me the most." He tossed the crumpled up bites over the ledge. "I was upset that I did such a thing to my brother. I mean he was always there for me and he told one little joke and I overreacted. I didn't mean to but I was so angry and miserable after what happened at that ceremony. I thought he was going to leave me there to rust."

"Only he didn't, did he?" said Jazz.

"No," sighed Sideswipe, "he came into my cell a few hours later. I told him I was sorry over and over, begging him to forgive me for hitting him and explaining why I did it. I thought he was going to say something cruel to me, but he just smiled, told me he forgave me and he was going to get me out. He told me about the contract and said it would keep he out of jail." Sideswipe leaned back and stared upwards. "So I got out of one cell and into another. I swear the wardens at prison are more lenient then him."

After listening to that insightful backstory, Jazz understood Sideswipe a little better and it was plain to see he his life was a roller coaster of tragedy and misery with the occasional stop at being misunderstood and need for attention. No wonder he used to be such an anti social brat. He was keen to have someone to love and to love him back but he had rotten luck finding a special someone. He was stuck in a life he didn't want but had no power to abandon it. He was someone who clearly did not belong in this city and the city clearly did not want him but his brother. In fact the only one who seemed to care about him at all was Sunstreaker. He saved him from prison, he helped him and stood up for him his own strange way, and after what Jazz saw earlier that day in Sideswipe's room, there was an obvious strong bond between the two brothers. Sunstreaker obviously cared a great deal for his twin but his position made it difficult to express that love in a normal way. After talking to both of them about this topic, Jazz was able to understand the twins a whole lot better, only it was Sideswipe who still appeared to suffer.

Sideswipe still seemed a little down after recalling the past so Jazz thought he better cheer him up with an uplifting talk. "Y'know, your brother really cares a great deal 'bout you."

"Pfft, tell me something I don't know," snorted Sideswipe.

"No I really mean it," said Jazz, "you two are as close as close can get, and I think it's great. He truly does care for you but this job of his makes it difficult to act like the brother he's supposed to be." Hearing that seemed to make the red mech blush a little. "I know it's hard but he has to put up with a lot of scrap at work. If you just try and support him a little I know it'll make a difference for the both of you. Might make life a little easier."

The red mech sighed heavily. "I know, I've been acting like a spoilt brat around him and I do things and say things to him that I wish I hadn't. It's just hard sometimes."

"Then stop takin' it out on him and learn to support each other," suggested Jazz, slowly standing back up, "and about findin' your one true love-"

"I know, I know," huffed Sideswipe, hopping up himself whilst trying to hide his embarrassment, "but don't worry, I'm taking a break from dating for a couple million years."

Jazz rolled his optics as he continued. "I was goin' to say that you shouldn't be lookin' for love. It comes to you, you just have to wait and watch out for it." Jazz didn't consider himself an expert on love but he was going to try. "It will happen," he assured Sideswipe, "It may happen tomorrow, it could happen in another century, but just like in trainin' you need to have patience. You have a whole life ahead of you and I'm certain that somewhere out there your future conjunx is jus' waitin' to meet you."

Sideswipe said nothing for a moment but smiled a little as he scratched his helm. "You should've gotten a job as a life advisor," he chuckled, heading back towards the safety barrier, "you always seem to know what to say."

"What can I say," gloated Jazz as he followed him, "I lived for over 47, 512 years. It's called experience."

The red mech looked over his shoulder and gave Jazz a sly and devious expression. "You're still old," he teased, skipping a little further ahead.

"I'm not that old," protested Jazz, following after him and heading back towards the estate. "But I am old enough to kick your aft platin' if you call me that again!"

"Ooooh, I'm so scared," jeered Sideswipe, laughing as he sprinted away from Jazz, the older mech chasing after him with the intention to teach him to respect his elders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to point out a few things. Because I made Sideswipe out to be 799 and Jazz 47,512 does not mean Sideswipe is like 17 in human years and Jazz 47 in human years. Since they're Cybertronians who can like live forever unless mortally wounded I just played around with their ages. Plus Dred or Dredager is like a Teen or Teenager.
> 
> Also I wanted to show the scene between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker because it's vital to the plot. I just wasn't so happy how it came out ^^;
> 
> There will also be special chapters coming up that are integral to the plot but will be short ^^ 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, peeping on someone  
\------------------------------------------------------  
He had a couple of hours before he had to leave to guard Sunstreaker for an social event and during that time Jazz was assisting Sideswipe with carrying all the trash out of his room and to the garbage chute located in a cleaner's closest. They had to move a large number of boxes that Sideswipe had labelled as garbage and judging by the sheer number of them it was going to take a while. Sideswipe didn't want to use the maids claiming it wouldn't be right for them to throw out his stuff when they were employed by his brother, but in reality he didn't want anyone to see his old belongings. It felt nice to have the young mech trust him with disposing his old belongings but even Jazz couldn't resist peeking into Sideswipe's things.

"So what's the story with this glasses case?" asked Jazz, spying the small case from the other day.

"I don't know why I'm still have those," huffed Sideswipe, carrying more boxes than he could handle, "I used to wear glasses."

"Used to? I guess you had optic surgery or somethin'?" guess Jazz, taking a couple of boxes off Sideswipe when he noticed he was struggling.

"Yeah, it was a spark day gift from my brother," explained Sideswipe, "we both used to wear glasses and he thought it would be neat if we both did the surgery together."

Jazz wondered what Sideswipe looked like whilst wearing glasses. For some reason he imagined that they made him look smarter or possibly cute in a nerdy way. Looking back inside the box he spotted a few more interesting things. "Alright, what's with this weird lookin' gizmo?" The item in question looked like something you'd buy at a gift store at a shuttle port.

"Old present from one of my ex's," sighed Sideswipe, looking at the item Jazz pointed out, "though I could have sworn I threw it out."

"Primus, it's a good thing I told you to clean your room," chuckled Jazz, "you were gonna turn into a hoarder or somethin'."

"Hey I threw stuff out from my room before," protested Sideswipe, puffing his cheeks in a little fit of rage, "I just... never got round to tossing out the rest of it."

"Riiiight," said Jazz giving Sideswipe a gloating grin, knowing all too well that Sideswipe didn't do squat with the way his room used to be.

On the next trip to the garbage chute Jazz spotted a worn out brochure in one of the boxes for the Iacon Academy of Advanced Combat and the article on sword training was highlighted. "You tried to apply for the IAAC?" asked Jazz.

"I was actually planning on moving to Iacon to join," answered Sideswipe, shoving a box into the chute.

"Why didn't you?" queried Jazz. Sideswipe stared at Jazz with a nonchalant look. It took Jazz a moment to realise why, recalling how they talked about it after their last training session. "Oh right," he muttered.

On the fourth trip to the garbage chute Jazz spotted another item of interest in Sideswipe's junk. It was an old stuffed toy, designed to look like a turbo fox. Picking it up the poor thing nearly fell apart in his hands. "The hell is this?" gasped Jazz, noticing it bore a foul smell.

Sideswipe looked over and gasped, snatching it from Jazz's hands and almost tearing it apart in the act. "You can't throw him out," he cried, hugging the stuffed toy tight until it looked ready to burst.

"Hey, I didn't put him in the box," said Jazz.

The young mech ignored Jazz and sighed as he stared at the toy with a nostalgic look. "This was my first present," he lightly chuckled, patting it on the head.

Jazz snorted a little as Sideswipe gave it a little hug. "Can't outgrow him, huh?" he teased.

Sideswipe seemed to have forgotten Jazz was still there and turned bright red as he hid the toy behind his back. "Sh-shut up," he stammered, "I like my old toys. Don't judge me!" 

"Aw I used to have quite the collection of soft toys when I was a little one," recalled Jazz, thinking back to his prized toy collection he had whilst growing up, "only I gave mine away as I got older."

"Well Mister Nibble's belongs here with me," stated Sideswipe loud and proud.

Jazz tried to hold it in but he couldn't help but laugh at Sideswipe's declaration. "Mister Nimble's?" he choked, "seriously?"

"Oh shut up," huffed Sideswipe, his face turning a bright red and appearing to regret telling Jazz of his prized toy's name.

For the rest of the cleaning up and throwing out, Jazz continued to pester and tease Sideswipe about his soft toy whilst Sideswipe himself would attempt to deny what he had said. It took them eight trips in total but they finally tossed the last box down the chute. Sideswipe stretched a little, keeping a worn out groan locked his mouth as he extended his arms as far as they could go. "Well thanks for the help," he said and was about to leave but Jazz halted him.

"Hold it, you owe me for all that," declared the bodyguard, grinning mischievously.

Sideswipe appeared stumped by this, he wasn't even expecting Jazz to ask something like that. "You want me to pay you or something?" he asked in confusion.

Jazz grinned and produced the glasses case from before. He saved them before they were tossed down the garbage chute as he found that his desire to see Sideswipe wear them was worth holding them back. "Put these on," he ordered.

"What!?" Sideswipe looked back and forth between the glasses case and the smirking Jazz. "W-why?"

"I'm curious," was all that Jazz said, waving the case before the young mech.

"Seriously?" huffed Sideswipe.

Jazz didn't say anything but watched as Sideswipe stared up at him, appearing to be a little embarrassed at the request. He finally gave in and snatched the case from Jazz's hand with a loud and annoyed exhale of air. Jazz watched as Sideswipe mumbled about whilst opening up the case, revealing the silver rectangular framed glasses within. Picking them up Sideswipe flicked them open and slid it over his face, the hooks resting behind his small brown audio receptors. He stared up at Jazz with an unimpressed frown and the glasses he now wore complemented his oddly sober expression. Jazz could not help but snort at the mech before, making by Sideswipe's cheeks flare up.

"You actually look a lil' more mature with those on," teased Jazz.

"S-shut up," grumbled Sideswipe, ripping the glasses off and tossing them down the chute. He then glared up the amused Jazz and smirked. "Lemme wear your visor," he suddenly demanded.

That request ceased Jazz's cackles and he reached protectively for his prized visor. "They'll fall off your face," he said.

"Oh c'mon," pleaded Sideswipe, "I won't break them." Jazz groaned as he gave in and carefully handed over his visor to the red mech. Sideswipe took them from and put them over his face, holding them as he looked around the room. "These are pretty cool."

Believing he had enough fun with his visor Jazz reached to take them back, but Sideswipe immediately ducked away from the large hand. "Alright, give 'em back kid," chuckled Jazz, deciding to amuse the young mech. He reached for them again but Sideswipe giggled as he swerved away from him.

"They look better on me," teased Sideswipe, staying out of reach of Jazz.

"They actually fit on me," stated Jazz smirking as he lunged for Sideswipe, thinking he was going to get him but Sideswipe was too fast.

"Too slow 'cause you're too old," continued Sideswipe practically dancing away from Jazz.

Jazz lunged again but Sideswipe ducked and swerved away from him, predicting each and every move the bodyguard made. Although Jazz admitted this was a little amusing he was now very keen to get his visor back. "C'mon kid," he said, still going along with the game, "if you don't give 'em back you get forget about the training."

"What training?"

Both Jazz and Sideswipe instantly ceased their playful chase and stared up to see Sunstreaker standing at the doorway. They stood upright, Sideswipe handing over the visor and Jazz snatching it off him, both of them mentally cursing at themselves upon their secret possibly being discovered by the very one they had been trying to hide it from.

Sunstreaker looked back and forth between them, his expression was calm but there was an intense glare coming off his optics. "So what was that about training?" he said, folding his arms.

Jazz tried to think but before he could say anything Sideswipe suddenly spoke up. "O-oh it's not what you think Sunstreaker," he stammered, bearing a crumbling grin, "it's just a little... er... education on... um... er... it's about... secret stuff?" Jazz rolled his optics in disbelief at Sideswipe's lame attempt at a lie. 

"Secret stuff?" Sunstreaker was looking really suspicious. He looked over at Jazz with a sharp glare. "What training are you conducting with him?" he demanded.

Optics darting around the room in blind panic, Jazz tried to think of something to sway the concern of his client. If he told him the truth it could cost him his job. In fact lately he had been putting himself in positions where his job was at risk. That didn't matter now, he had to think of something that Sunstreaker would believe. His optics eventually landed on a magazine one of the cleaners left behind with a pair of mech's dancing upon it, and an idea popped into his head.

"Dancing," he declared.

Both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked surprised with that. "Dancing?" repeated Sunstreaker.

Jazz nodded, confident that Sunstreaker would buy the story. "I'm real sorry, the kid here wanted to surprise you but I've been teachin' him how to do a lil' footwork on the dance floor."

Sunstreaker appeared to have bought it but he looked back towards Sideswipe with an amazed expression. "Sideswipe, why didn't you tell me?"

Now it was Sideswipe's turn to think of an excuse and that was when Jazz really started to worry, almost believing that the kid would mess up. Sideswipe but his lip and fiddled with his hands as he tried to play along with the whole "dancing" idea Jazz put on the table. "Oh... ummmmm... You always wanted me to take up a hobby and Jazz mentioned that he knew a thing or two about it, so I asked him. You always told me how you were impressed with the choreography of those dancers on those sets, so I figured I'd give it a shot."

"But why did you hide it from me?" asked Sunstreaker appearing quite curious but also appeared to be somewhat angry.

"I wanted to... surprise you for our spark day," answered Sideswipe trying to express a trustworthy smile that crumbled before he could even shape it.

At first there was no response from Sunstreaker as he continued to stare at his brother and bodyguard with an accusing stare. However he finally smiled and said, "well I really have to see this. Can you give me a demonstration?"

"Right now?" said both Jazz and Sideswipe simultaneously, the pair of them discreetly panicking. 

"Not right now," sighed Sunstreaker as he gazed up at a chronosmeter, "Jazz and myself have to leave in a bit, and you have work to get to. Come along Jazz."

As Sunstreaker exited the closet, Sideswipe smacked Jazz against the arm. "Dancing!?" he hissed, "are you serious? I can't dance!"

"Relax," whispered Jazz as he followed after Sunstreaker, "at least he didn't see through the lie." He gave the young mech a reassuring nudge on the arm as he left.

On the way out of the estate and towards the shuttle to their next destination Jazz noticed how oddly quiet Sunstreaker was, the model was usually quite chatty. It was possible he was in a foul mood but as to why he was such a mood was anybody's guess. Maybe it had something to do with seeing his brother acting so chummy with someone else for he did seem a little off when he walked in on the pair of them. Was he mad at him? Sitting in the shuttle with him suddenly felt awkward. Sunstreaker just stared out the window in deep thought but with a small but noticeable scowl upon his face. Jazz wondered if he should say something but wasn't entirely sure what to talk about.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, Sunstreaker finally spoke. "You've gotten quite friendly with my brother," he said, not at all sounding happy about it.

"Does that upset you?" asked Jazz, wondering why something like that would upset him. Sunstreaker didn't answer him at first. "I didn't think you'd be bothered by it," continued Jazz, "he's actually a decent kid."

"I'm aware of that," huffed Sunstreaker, his optics slowly moving to stare at his bodyguard, "my concern is with you."

"Me?" Jazz didn't think he was hurting anybody.

Sunstreaker turned his body to face Jazz, his expression still foul looking. "Jazz I'm uncertain why you suddenly decided to become close to my brother, but I'm rather protective of him and every time he makes a friend it always ends badly for him. He is used by strangers to get close to me or to upset me."

Realising now why Sunstreaker was agitated by all this Jazz raised his hands up to explain himself. "I can assure you I have no intention to use your brother against you," he promised. "He and I just started talkin' one day and we kinda hit it off.... as friends, of course."

"Is that so," murmured Sunstreaker who still looked unconvinced. "I don't like it when my brother is upset Jazz."

Jazz sighed. "Look, if it bothers you that much I'll avoid him for you," he suggested.

"Jazz if I wanted you to stop talking to my brother I would have ordered it," stated Sunstreaker, sitting up a little, "I'm just telling you that I don't my brother to deal with another "false" relationship at his expense."

"There is nothin' false about the friendship I made round your brother," declared Jazz.

"Nothing at all Jazz?" Sideswipe stare intensified upon Jazz, making the bodyguard wonder what the model meant by that. "Anyway, what type of dance style are you teaching him?"

Oh so they were back to that now. "It's a cool lil' style from back home," explained Jazz, thinking back to all the clubs and music venues from Tygar Pax. "It's a hip type of dance with a whole lot of groovin'."

Sunstreaker looked absolutely lost with Jazz's explanation. "Does it have a name?" he asked.

"Not really," muttered Jazz, "it was just known as the groove back home and it was the coolest style in town."

"Is Sideswipe able to groove?" asked Sunstreaker.

"Oh he's pickin' it up just fine," lied Jazz, who was certain Sideswipe could groove from the way he hopped about whilst listening to music.

Sunstreaker then smiled sweetly as he lost himself in his thoughts. "I can't wait to see him dance," he giggled, "he's usually quite embarrassed about dancing in public."

Jazz leaned back into his seat and sighed, hoping that Sunstreaker would forget this all together or if Sideswipe could get over his fear of dancing around others. Either way he really needed to stop getting himself into these messes.

\------------------------------------------------------

The chatter around them was loud as armies of fans had gathered outside a new hotel to woo and idolise their favourite models. Sunstreaker was one of four models who showed up for a special photo shoot and to promote the brand new hotel. Jazz did what he always did and guarded Sunstreaker from his obsessive fans, glaring at them viciously and shoving those who got too close. A media crew interviewed Sunstreaker, asking him opinions on a few things and quite a number of questions regarding the Beauty Immortal scheme. 

"Do you think that displaying bodies of deceased models is something the public wants?" asked one of the reporters.

Sunstreaker bore a smile that could make a spark implode. "No one knows what the public truly wants," he answered, "but the scheme is both for them and for us. We want our beauty to be preserved for future generations to see and hopefully inspire future models. There will be many who won't step foot into the facility but to those who will, we welcome it."

"There have been some reports many of the models have been bullied into the scheme, many who are devout Primus worshippers. Is this true?" demanded another reporter.

"We respect there religion of all models," replied Sunstreaker, "and I assure you that the contract is not mandatory and we make certain the models are 100% certain before signing."

"There is speculation that in the near future the Beauty Immortal scheme will become mandatory," claimed of the reporters.

"I can assure you it will never come to that," stated Sunstreaker, "now if that is all I have a function to host. Good day everyone and please remember to stop by a Celestial Spa."

With that finished Jazz lead Sunstreaker back inside the hotel and into a private ballroom where the rest of the VIPs were hanging out. The yellow model held in a yawn as he snatched a drink off a wandering tray, gulping it down to quench his thirst.

"You handled those reporters pretty good," complemented Jazz.

"They're a bunch of cyber-vultures," huffed Sunstreaker, continuing to consume his drink, "why can't they ever get their facts right before bothering me?"

"Guess they'd rather hear it from the source," answered Jazz.

Sunstreaker said nothing after that but continued to drink and greet the other guests. Jazz stood by as the function dragged on, listening to the models prattle on about their jobs and the VIPS's chat about unimportant subjects. It was getting awfully dull and Jazz was fighting the urge to yawn. He would follow Sunstreaker as he roamed around the large room, keeping an optic out for party crashers and troublemakers. He also noticed a few Enforcers present at the function, working alongside with Pulchritudo INC's security force. Jazz was a little curious as to why security had tightened but he didn't have the means to find out.

"Hello Jazz!"

Jazz flinched upon hearing his name being said so loud and close to his audio receptor. He spun round and found Strongarm standing there, her blue smile was a refreshing sight to see for a change.

"What are you doin' here?" asked Jazz, keeping one optic locked on Sunstreaker.

"Pulchritudo INC hired extra security today and requested the aid of my precinct," explained Strongarm, "apparently after making Beauty Immortal public a lot of activists didn't take too kindly to it. We're here just to make certain nothing drastic happens."

"Makes sense," muttered Jazz, not surprised by this revelation.

"The CEO Platinum is getting a lot of grief from the public about the whole thing too," continued Strongarm, "he's been addressing the city at public briefs, dealing with the senators from other cities, even the Prime and the Primus church have been going on at him. Still he refuses to let up, saying that it's what the Towers want and it isn't a exactly hurting anyone."

Jazz was confused by this. "Wait, why are they goin' to him? I mean I know he came up with the damn thing but shouldn't big bots like that be goin' to the Towers Senator to appeal against him? In fact why isn't the Towers senator dealin' with all this? It almost sounds like Platinum is the senator."

It was Strongarm's turn to be confused. "He is the senator," she said.

Jazz felt his jaw drop. That greasy greedy blowout was the senator for the Towers? "You can't be serious? Him? In charge of this whole city? I thought he was in charge of a modellin' company?"

Strongarm chuckled a little. "I'm sorry, I was confused about it all too when I first came here. You see all the CEO's of all the modelling companies of the city make up the Towers council. Since modelling makes up a majority of the cities income they pretty much run the whole city. Platinum is in charge of the most powerful modelling company in the city and so the council made him senator."

"That is without a doubt the dumbest government system I ever heard," spat Jazz, "jus' 'cause they run the most powerful corporations in the Towers doesn't mean they can run the city. Business mechs can't be politicians at the same time."

"It's been like this for eons," said Strongarm with a shrug. "Nobody complains about it, it's just the way things are. Well unless Platinum screws up, then the council will vote for a new senator which they can do at anytime."

"That easy huh? I guess he's doin' somethin' right to stay in power for so long," muttered Jazz.

It got quiet between them for a moment, with Jazz keeping an optic on Sunstreaker. Strongarm looked like she wanted to talk, held it in for a moment, until letting it out. "So how is it going from your end?" asked Strongarm wanting to get the topic back onto the case, "I'm still looking into that incident 512 but no such luck."

"Just keep at it," assured Jazz, "we're at a lil' roadblock ourselves at the moment. Thunderhoof never told us where that secret club was and all we got from him was some stolen print of the Mortal Sol."

Strongarm pondered on this for a moment. "A Mortal Sol print? There hasn't been any report on such an item being stolen."

"I'm guessin' they don't want the public to know 'bout it," assumed Jazz, though thinking about that print reminded him of something else. "Don't suppose you know anythin' 'bout a fella named Fritzer? He was the one after it."

"The one killed on the shuttle tracks?" Strongarm looked annoyed for some reason. "It's harsh of me to say but I'm kinda glad he's gone."

"How come?" asked Jazz, who was sort of used to the fact that nobody in the Towers cared for the value of life.

Strongarm huffed before answering. "That Fritzer was a manager for a perfume wax company, made a fortune when he got a model to sponsor their products. Strange thing is he lost his entire fortune under mysterious circumstances and he was fired."

"Interestin'," murmured Jazz making notes of it.

"After all that he started approaching employees of Pulchritudo INC, begging them to locate something that ruined him. We've had so many complaints about him we're kinda relieved he's no longer around to bother us." Strongarm appeared ashamed of herself after saying such a thing. "He needed help but he refused. He just wouldn't stop going on about how his life was ruined because he was caught in the act."

Jazz wondered if the item that ruined Frizter was that print of the Mortal Sol, though he wondered how it ruined his life enough for him to annoy Pulchritudo INC employees to find it for him. Before he could even think of how a print could do so much damage to ones livelihood, he spotted someone he knew in the crowd. It was Steeljaw and he was surrounded by interested models and captivated fans. This must had been his hotel he had opened and he was here to reel in the praise.

"Say Strongarm, do you guys keep lists of all the clubs that guy owns?" asked Jazz.

"We do," replied Strongarm, "is there a certain one you're after?"

"I don't have the name," sighed Jazz, "I just told you that."

Strongarm frowned. "I'll give you the whole list but it's a big one."

As Strongarm proceeded to download the list he noticed that Steeljaw was heading towards the Mortal Sol. Jazz stood a little closer to Sunstreaker, the yellow model smiling as the supposed charming mech approached them.

"Once again, Steeljaw, you've designed a fabulous hotel," praised Sunstreaker.

"Don't I always," gloated Steeljaw bowing a little, "I do hope you partake in the raffle, there are some fabulous prizes up for grabs."

Sunstreaker chuckled as he grabbed another glass from a passing tray. "I might," he chortled, "but tell me, how is my brother doing at the Heights? He rarely tells me about his work."

Steeljaw bore a fanged grin, those dagger like denta shining in the light. "He is a hard worker and we appreciate having him work for us," he declared. "The patrons of the hotel adore him."

Although that was supposed to be something pleasing to hear, Sunstreaker didn't smile. "That's good to hear," he said, "I'm pleased that you're taking care of him so well."

The silver mech grinned and then turned his attention to Jazz. "I don't believe I had the chance to get aquatinted with your new bodyguard." He stared at Jazz with those golden optics, his audio fins slowly rising and falling. "He's certainly an improvement from Brawl."

"Oh yes, Jazz is an excellent bodyguard," praised Sunstreaker, "I've never felt so protected in all my life."

As Sunstreaker continued to praise Jazz for all his hard work, the bodyguard could not help but feel off about the way Steeljaw was staring at him. His glare was intense, as if he was accusing Jazz of a crime he hadn't committed. Those audio fins were turned on him and his golden optics were practically glowing. He caressed the glass he held in his hands, his clawed talons making sharp taps and painful scratches. There was something devious about the way he looked at him though as to why, Jazz had yet to know. It was possible Thunderhoof had informed him of his Prowl's visit to the Ment and if that were so Jazz was going to have to watch his back. Steeljaw then resumed chatting with Sunstreaker, talking about things like business and possible future establishments and every now and then they would talk of Sideswipe. 

There was nothing worth while to take in during that conversation so Jazz returned to Strongarm, hoping her list would assist him somehow. "I downloaded the entire list," reported Strongarm giving Jazz a copy. "I hope it helps you on your end."

Jazz glanced at it and it was indeed a long list. Searching for this particular club would take a long time and he didn't have time to investigate these clubs. There had to be an easier way.

"If I may sir," said Strongarm, "I do know of one way to find this club."

"You do?" Jazz was all audios.

"Well, I normally wouldn't suggest something like this," sighed the enforcer, "but Steeljaw might have the information you seek in his office at the Heights. He treats that place like his own personal headquarters. I can't exactly issue you a warrant to search his place but..."

"I don't need a warrant," said Jazz liking the idea, "I jus' need to get in quick and get out quick."

Strongarm didn't look to happy with that, despite being the one who suggested it. "The only issue you're going to have is getting into the office without arousing suspicion."

That was a good point. It was possible Steeljaw was already aware of his true intention due to their run in with Thunderhoof so if he walked into the Heights then Steeljaw would keep his guard up or possibly kick him out. He needed a way to get in there without alerting Steeljaw, but it seemed near impossible unless there was a back door, a way to get in without Steeljaw knowing. He couldn't ask Strongarm, he could not risk exposing her or get her into trouble. He actually considered asking Sideswipe but he didn't want to reveal the truth of his purpose here in the Towers nor risk his job or the wrath of his brother. If he was going to do this he needed a good plan and there was one mech he knew who could figure this mess out.

After Strongarm excused herself to check on her colleagues, Jazz activated his comm he called for Prowl. Within moments he heard a stoic, "what?"

"Nice to hear from you too," muttered Jazz, "I'm in a bind and I need your help."

"What exactly would that be?" Prowl seemed to be in a bad mood.

"Look I think we can find that club if I search Steeljaw's office," explained Jazz, "he has one in the Heights. I can-"

"A good idea but risky," stated Prowl, "Steeljaw is aware of our true intentions no thanks to Thunderhoof, I intercepted a communication between the pair of them. That was my fault by the way, I didn't think he'd recognise you."

Ah, so that was why he sounded grumpier than usual. "So how come Steeljaw ain't rattin' us out?"

"Possibly because he thinks he holds all the cards or he's waiting for an opportunity to use this information against us. Either way we're on a short fuse and we got to get something on him before he acts." Prowl made an exhausting sound. "I've checked his records and I found something. He was once accused of running a nightclub without a license."

"That's it?" It was Jazz's turn to sigh. "We can't exactly blackmail him on somethin' minor like that."

"It was an illegal club that dealt with drugs and sex trafficking," continued Prowl, "the only reason he got away with it was because he somehow destroyed all evidence linking him to the establishment and the case was dismissed. As it turns out Steeljaw has friends in high places."

Scrap. Steeljaw was a force to be reckoned with. He was clearly a smart business mech and was prepared to do everything to keep himself out of the spotlight of this investigation. Though Jazz wondered if that illegal club case Prowl mentioned was the cold case Nightbeat was investigating. In fact looking back at all the clues they didn't find one thing about Steeljaw, apart from his hotel. It sounded possible but what if Steeljaw was the one Nightbeat was investigating and when Steeljaw found out he had Nightbeat taken care of. He then destroyed all evidence linking him to Nightbeat's, maybe even forging some evidence to steer attention away from him. It made some sense now but it was something that he was going to have to discuss with Prowl, but it was highly possible that Steeljaw was behind Nightbeat's murder. Right now both Jazz and Prowl needed to get into the Heights and get into Steeljaw's office to find something linking him to this crime.

"Prowl you're the smartest and most devious mech I know," declared Jazz, "you must have some idea how I can get in there without startin' up trouble with the big bad wolf."

Prowl was silent for a moment and in the background Jazz could hear the sounds of hardened fingers typing away. "There might be one way," he said finally.

"What's the plan then?" Jazz was ready for whatever it was.

"Get the Mortal Sol to enter that raffle," ordered Prowl.

What? "Prowl, how the hell is a raffle gonna help me?" hissed Jazz.

"One of the prizes is to spend one night at the Heights," explained Prowl, "If you get me his ticket number I can rig it from here and get him to win the prize. He has to take you with him of course but hopefully Steeljaw won't be so suspicious. His guard will be up but he won't expect trouble from you whilst you're guarding the Mortal Sol."

That actually could work. It was a long shot but right now it was their only option and it wouldn't be that suspicious at all. Primus must had been on his side for Sunstreaker was already heading towards the raffle, confidence in his optics. Jazz followed and hoped that he wasn't just going to browse and that he would purchase a ticket. Thankfully he wasn't and Sunstreaker took a single ticket. Stealing a glance at the number he sent Prowl a copy, who said he would take care of it but it was a guarantee that Sunstreaker would "win" the night at the Heights.


	13. Chapter 13

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, someone suffering a panic attack  
\------------------------------------------------------

He really wanted to say that he wasn't a steward or a bag carrier or a servant but Jazz wasn't too bothered by carrying the twenty odd suitcases, at least the plan Prowl had devised on the spot was working. Sunstreaker won the raffle prize for a free night at the Heights, he took it and now here they were, checking in to the grandest hotel in the Towers. Jazz's presence was needed of course since he was the bodyguard, thus everything was going according to plan. Now all he had to do was find a good opportunity to find some clues. In the meantime Jazz had been tasked to assist in carrying a few belongings into the grand hotel for the Mortal Sol, and so far he was getting in without any trouble though he swore he spotted a couple of dirty looks from hotel security. Nevertheless they made their way to the penthouse, getting escorted by Steeljaw himself who only looked at Jazz once and then focused his attention on the Mortal Sol.

"I had a feeling there was luck running through your energon lines," praised Steeljaw, his fanged grin glowing as always.

"Always wanted to spend a night here," chuckled Sunstreaker, "I guess Primus must have rewarded me."

"He rewarded you the moment you were sparked," continued Steeljaw.

Sunstreaker smiled in a peculiar way. "That he did."

After a long ride in an elevator and a stroll down a long hallway they finally reached a large set of doors. Steeljaw opened the doors for them, inviting them into a grand room that almost surpassed the beauty that was the Mortal Sol's estate. The ceiling was really high up with a gigantic crystal chandelier, rainbow lights dancing through the air as it illuminated the room. The floor was unusually soft in a good way and there was a lovely scent in the air. There was even a complimentary bottle of expensive energon wine in a chrome chiller along with some exquisite treats and a vase filled with flowers on a nearby table. As Jazz stared at these gifts he suddenly realised that the flowers left for the Mortal Sol were-

"Spark flowers?" Sunstreaker gently stroked one. "Interesting choice."

"They represent memories," chuckled Steeljaw, "I hope for all my guests to have happy memories of this place."

"They also represent death," said Sunstreaker, sounding a little cocky and moving the base over to another table. "Though they smell incredibly sweet. Nostalgic in a sense and at the the same time they make me feel at ease. Sweet little things, aren't they?" Steeljaw nodded as he proceeded to show Sunstreaker around the penthouse.

As Jazz put the cases down in a small corner he sent a quick comm call to Prowl. No one was paying attention to him so he could make the call without causing alarm. Thankfully Prowl was standing by, informing Jazz beforehand that he would be available to contact during this mission given it's importance. 

Sure enough, Prowl answered the moment Jazz made the call. "Status?"

"I'm in," whispered Jazz, "and I made an interestin' discovery." Switching his visor on so Prowl would be able to see, Jazz looked back towards the flowers. "There was a vase of those spark flowers waitin' for us."

"Curious," responded Prowl, "though does he do this for all guests? Or did he just leave them for the Mortal Sol in particular?"

"Well Strongarm did say that this place ordered a lot of these flowers," recalled Jazz, looking around in the hopes to find another clue. "Only thing is where does he keep the rest of 'em?"

"Jazz, do you recall the Vos killer case?" asked Prowl suddenly.

"I think so," muttered Jazz, who really wasn't sure if he had or not.

"Well the killer had a habit of sending his victims calling cards before he killed them," explained Prowl, "he would send them a single shard of crystallised star tears and a few days after that..."

"Hang on," said Jazz, checking if he was still in the clear, "are you suggestin' that Steeljaw is some sort of killer and his callin' card is a flower?"

"It's a theory at the moment, but a possibility," answered Prowl. 

"Don't those two words mean the same thing?" asked Jazz, smirking a little.

"We can discuss the meaning of those words later," sighed Prowl, "just stick to the plan; find Steeljaw's office and look for clues, and if there is a connection with the spark flowers look into that too. There is something off about Steeljaw and you don't need me to tell you that."

After Prowl hung up, Jazz looked around the room some more. There was nothing special apart from the atrocious art that decorated the place. Steeljaw was showing off the rest of the penthouse to Sunstreaker, the model's laughter ensuring that he was still safe. Jazz glanced over at the flowers, the small light blue petals almost glowing as if to beckon him closer. He approached them and stared at them, inspecting them with careful optics. From where he stood he could smell their sweet scent and admire the brilliant colour and glow they emitted. He had never seen these flowers up so close before but the more he stared at them the more he felt that these fragile plants were hiding something sinister about themselves. 

"I wouldn't stay so close to them if I were you," came a voice. Jazz stood up and looked over to see Steeljaw standing within a doorway. "Spark flowers emit a unique scent that could make one delirious for hours," explained the silver mech, "and we wouldn't want the Mortal Sol's bodyguard to suddenly become ill, would we?"

Jazz kept his cool even though he could practically taste the distain in his voice. "Learn somethin' new everyday," he said with a confident chuckle.

Steeljaw narrowed his golden optics as he stared at him. "Sometimes learning new things can be problematic for others," he stated, gently stroking a fragile piece of furniture with a clawed hand. "It would cause a whole mess for quite a number of people. People who may wind up hurt."

That had to be the most unsubtle threat Jazz had ever heard, but then again Steeljaw was aware of Jazz's involvement with Prowl. "The things I learn don't hurt anyone," declared Jazz.

"Then why are you standing here?" demanded Steeljaw, "in my territory; my hotel?"

Jazz smiled. "Just doin' my job, of course."

Steeljaw made a curt smile before ending towards the exit. "We'll make certain you be a good bodyguard and stick to your job." He gave Jazz a cold stare before leaving the penthouse.

"Well I better keep my guard up," huffed Jazz, "he's clearly ready for me." It meant that if he truly was going to snoop around in his office he needed the perfect time to do it, a distraction maybe but it would have to be something big. He only had one night to figure this out and he was determined to get clues no matter what.

Sunstreaker suddenly came out of a room and glanced about. "Has Steeljaw left already?" Jazz nodded in response. "Finally," he huffed, "I can relax for a while." He slumped into a plush chair and heaved heavily. "I really needed this. I'm so happy I won that raffle."

"It's Prowl you should be thanking," thought Jazz, now pondering on what to do now. It was far too early to try anything now and he couldn't leave without Sunstreaker present. Thankfully Sunstreaker was looking interested in some of the activities listed in a leaflet nearby, hopefully he'd go and explore and of course Jazz would have to follow. Jazz did look around, pretending to be in awe of the penthouse when in reality he was seeking out bugs and hidden cameras. Thanks to the sensors installed in his visor he was able to spot a few and thankfully none of them were near him whilst he contacted Prowl. Still he was going to have to be extremely carefully. A little line of text suddenly showed up on his visor screen. "I see them. Contact me via text only." Prowl was still watching, which was a good thing. Having two sets of optics whilst walking through the wolf's den was better than one set. Still it made him wonder if Steeljaw was indeed hiding something worth value. He had all these hidden spies set up in this penthouse and he gave an obvious warning to him. Did it have something to do with Nightbeat's case or was it something entirely different? The only way he was going to find out is if he did some investigating, but until Sunstreaker made a move he was stuck in this room.

Time passes and Jazz tried to relax but with what was at stake it was a little hard to do such a thing. Sunstreaker would walk about the room, help himself to the minibar, and then relax in the plush chair. Jazz would answer the door whenever it knocked only to find a maid or a butler, presenting gifts or a service. More time passed and still Sunstreaker had no interest in leaving the room, he was far too busy relaxing and enjoying himself. Jazz was tempted to ask if Sunstreaker wanted to have a look around but if he was the one who suggested it then Steeljaw would remain on high alert. So for now he was trapped.

Another knock on the door, Jazz sighing as he walked over to answer it. He opened it expecting another maid or a butler bearing gifts or something, but to his surprise he found a familiar face standing outside the door. "Hello and welcome to the Heights. I am here to provide an outstanding service during your-" Ceasing the lack of enthusiasm greeting, the young mech stared up with wide open optics. "What the frag are you doing here?"

"Sideswipe?" Jazz wasn't expecting this but there he was, standing there carrying a large case and reading some scripted greeting on a card. "What are you doin' here?"

"I work here," snapped Sideswipe, suddenly reaching for his head. "Woah, deja vu," he muttered.

"Sideswipe!" Sunstreaker noticed his brother at the door. "Come in, come in!"

"What are you doing here?" gasped Sideswipe, shocked to see his brother present.

"Oh I forgot to tell you," giggle Sunstreaker, "I won a free night here at the Heights, and what a surprise, I chose the very night you'll be working. What a coincidence!"

"Coincidence my aft," grumbled Sideswipe as he walked into the Penthouse, dragging a large case with him. "So you just decided not to tell me that you'd be spending the night here whilst I was working?"

Sunstreaker merely smiled again with another giggle. "I wanted to surprise you, and it was so worth it." Sunstreaker seemed amused with the whole thing whilst Sideswipe still looked angry about the whole thing.

Jazz had almost forgotten that Sideswipe worked here as a personal buffer or something like that, in fact he didn't even realise he was working here today of all days. He was also surprised that Sunstreaker never mentioned this to him, they only won the prize a day ago. Maybe Sunstreaker wanted to surprise his brother or something. Jazz watched as the red mech dumped his case on the table and released the latches. Within the case was the most expensive looking buffing equipment Jazz had ever seen. Sideswipe was muttering something as he assembled it together, clearly upset that his brother was present at his work. Once the buffer was assembled he turned to face his brother.

"Alright, let's get this over with," he mumbled, turning the buffer on. "You better tip me after this."

Sunstreaker giggled again. "Oh no, I don't need a buff silly. Besides you're not allowed to touch me with an unlicensed buffer."

Sideswipe suddenly looked annoyed. "The room came with the damn service, I had to walk all the way up here lugging this heavy pile of junk." It looked like no one had a clue that a model was staying in the room, which Jazz found a little odd. Either it was for security reasons or something else. 

"Language Sideswipe," sighed Sunstreaker. He glanced over at Jazz. "Give Jazz a buff then, I think he's earned one."

Jazz raised his hands in polite defence. "No thanks, I'm good," he said.

"I insist Jazz," argued Sunstreaker, with a grin, "he does need to repay you for those dancing lessons. Besides I wish to have a walk around the hotel and I need you looking tip top." Before Jazz could even attempt to refuse the service, Sunstreaker walked off. "I'm going to soak in an oil bath and once I'm done we'll go explore. See you in a bit." And with that he shut himself in the bathing room.

Sideswipe sighed as he looked up at Jazz. "Typical of him, huh?"

"Yeah," sighed Jazz, who should feel used to it by now. "I seriously thought he would have told you 'bout all this."

"Did he really win this room?" asked Sideswipe, still annoyed and surprised with all that had just transpired, "this isn't the first time he tried to spy on me at work."

"I was there when he won it," confirmed Jazz, "I seriously thought he would have told you 'bout it."

Sideswipe blew some air past his closed lips. "I wonder why he didn't bother telling me then," he pondered, "he usually loves to brag about stuff like that. Or maybe it wasn't worth bragging. I dunno."

Jazz couldn't answer that. Sunstreaker must of had a good reason why he didn't inform his brother of this, it wasn't something you'd keep to yourself. He must of known that they'd bump into each other here. Maybe he did want to surprise him but it seemed an odd way to do it.

"So, you wanna buff?" Sideswipe held up the buffer and set it to a high speed to show off. "Usually I take the armour down to the buffing room but penthouse guests have the special treatment. Plus I don't think he's going to want to wait on you."

"I think he'll complain if I don't," huffed Jazz, sitting down on a fancy looking stool, "so go ahead, just watch the wings."

Sideswipe stepped forward and Jazz couldn't help but flinch as the buffer came into contact with his metal skin. It felt rough at first but the more Sideswipe buffed him the more the vibrations made him feel at ease.

"So when are you going to help me learn to dance?" demanded Sideswipe suddenly.

"Surely you don't need lessons," said Jazz, "I've seen you with your audio phones."

The red mech appeared a little flustered. "Dancing in private is one thing, it's when Sunstreaker wants to watch me dance in a room full of onlookers." 

"Then pretend they ain't there," chuckled Jazz, who couldn't help but find Sideswipe's shyness to dance in public a little cute.

"It's kinda hard to pretend when there's a hundred set of optics on you," retorted Sideswipe, rubbing the buffer on a particularly sensitive spot on Jazz's back.

Jazz shivered a little. "Who cares who's watchin' you. I mean, you have fun dancin' right?"

Sideswipe nodded but still looked a little flustered. "I do have fun," he mumbled, "but when someone's watching me I just get all nervous. The moment I see someone looking at me I just freeze up."

"Don't you go to clubs?" asked Jazz, certain Sideswipe mentioned something like that.

"I do but the clubs I visit are dark and filled with smoke," explained Sideswipe, "no one can see me, well until they turn on the lights and I have to sneak off to the back."

So Sideswipe could only dance in the dark or when he was alone? Jazz then gave Sideswipe a smug grin. "Your brother mentioned somethin' 'bout you bein' all shy," he teased.

"I'm not shy," stuttered Sideswipe, almost dropping the buffer.

"Nothin' wrong 'bout bein' shy," chuckled Jazz, "it just makes you cute and all."

In retaliation to the comment Sideswipe, furious and blushing like crazy, forced the buffer on one of Jazz's door wings, causing Jazz to immediately yelp and fall off the stool, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Grunting from the slight pain and the ticklish sensation that was still present around his wings, Jazz glared up at Sideswipe who smugly waved the buffer around.

"Not cool," he muttered.

The loud noise seemed to have caught Sunstreaker's attention for he suddenly appeared with a look of concern and a towel wrapped round his oil soaked body. "Jazz? Why are you on the floor?" 

"He slipped," lied Sideswipe with a hint of sass in his voice. Jazz pulled himself up and rubbed his sensitive wing, giving Sideswipe a death glare. Sideswipe merely stuck his glossa out at him as he packed the buffer away. "I have to go now," sighed the red mech, "I'm not allowed to be on the floor during my break times."

Jazz was expecting Sunstreaker to convince his brother to stay in the room for his break, pleading him to hide here so they could hang out or something, but instead the model formed a smile that almost looked forced. He waved goodbye as Sideswipe exited the room and then just stood there, that smile of his curving into a bitter frown. It was almost as if he had forgotten that Jazz was still in the room with him as the model suddenly bore a foul look, almost grinding his teeth and clenching his fists into tight balls. He was clearly angry about something but what? Was it because Sideswipe left? Why didn't he just stop him then? He wanted to say something but Jazz wasn't certain what he should say. He had to get back on track with his mission though so he cleared his throat.

Sunstreaker's foul mood suddenly vanished as quickly as it arrived and he looked over at Jazz with one of those smiles of his. "So did you enjoy the buffing? My brother is supposedly talented."

"Well I feel cleaner," replied Jazz with a smirk.

That seemed to have pleased Sunstreaker. "I'll just clean up and we'll go have a look around," he said, heading back to the wash room.

Once he was alone once again Jazz lumbered over to the plush chair and sat down. Sideswipe certainly got a little cheeky with him. How odd it was that despite this playfully personality of his he was he was still shy when it came to certain situations, such as a crowded dance floor. He was going to have to teach him a few moves to make Sunstreaker happy and he was confident he could learn it without trouble. As he relaxed a line of text suddenly appeared on Jazz's visor.

"What was that about dance lessons?"

Jazz cringed. He had forgotten that Prowl was still listening in. He quickly responded with, "I just promised to teach him a few moves, nothing to worry about."

Prowl instantly responded with, "I knew it."

"Knew what?" responded Jazz, frowning a little.

Nothing came up at first until a line of text appeared that made Jazz turn red. "You always, always get soft on red mechs. You are there to do a job not to get some punk into your berth."

Jazz almost screamed the words, "it's not like that!" Instead he sent it as an angry text.

"I should have known there was an ulterior motive as to why you didn't want me to suspect him," replied Prowl. Even though he was just reading the words of text Jazz could almost hear Prowl's cold voice.

"It's not like that," replied Jazz once again, "I seriously don't suspect him and neither should you!"

"So you don't like him then?" asked Prowl.

Before Jazz could even reply he suddenly found himself a little stumped as the question was stuck in his head. Did he like him? He couldn't deny that he had formed an interesting bond with the young mech but as the days went by and the closer they grew Jazz found that there was a part of the bond between them that didn't make sense to him. Sideswipe started off as an annoying brat but he eventually found that underneath all that was this sweet and funny mech who was just begging to be understood. During their talks and their secret training Jazz found that the red mech was interesting, funny and could be adorable at times when he never intended. He wanted to say that they were just friends but...

The line of text before him flashed red. "Jazz, don't forget why we're here."

Jazz sighed as he responded with a, "I haven't."

As soon as he had sent the text Sunstreaker appeared from the washroom looking clean and shiny as always and bearing that damn smile of his. "Ready Jazz?"

\------------------------------------------------------

For the past four hours Jazz and Sunstreaker strolled around the hotel to explore what it had to offer to its guests and Jazz could not deny how impressive it was. There was a packed casino, an actual theatre, a showroom, a spa and relaxation centre, a dance club, and even a mini mall with designer shops. Jazz could not believe this hotel had so many things to offer, it didn't feel like a hotel at all. No wonder Steeljaw favoured this hotel out of the rest. He had to keep his guard up because a few of the guests were Mortal Sol fans and they did crowd around him to talk with him, but thankfully none of them were crazy enough to attempt to touch him.

As they continued to wander around the hotel Jazz continued to plot on how he was going to get into Steeljaw's office during their stay. They weren't that far away from it but Jazz knew he couldn't just leave Sunstreaker's side just like that. The room was bugged up tight with cameras so even if he snuck out whilst Sunstreaker recharged Steeljaw would know something was up. Jazz had to get in there whilst they were walking around outside their room but how was he going to do that and leave Sunstreaker alone? He had to come up with a plan fast and it had to be a good plan. This was certainly going to be a challenge. 

He noticed a few security guards cautiously eyeing him as they walked about, no doubt due to Steeljaw concerned with his presence in the hotel. If Jazz tried to leave Sunstreaker's side then they'd be the first ones to know. He could try and leave Sunstreaker's side in a hidden location but then he would be abandoning his job and then get fired. Right now the latter seemed like the better option but he was going to have to do something about Sunstreaker. Knocking him out was the obvious solution but if he did he was going to have to leave him somewhere where no one would find his unconscious body. The more he thought about it the more Jazz wondered what would Nightbeat have done? He would've figured out what to do in this mess of a puzzle.

Knowing he was going to either lecture or complain or both about it later, Jazz sent Prowl a quick text to get some assistance in this task. "Any ideas?"

Prowl responded with. "With security focused on you it will be difficult to get anywhere near Steeljaw's office."

"You think?" texted Jazz, sighing as he sent it. "And even if we did distract security there is my other problem."

"Indeed, leaving Sunstreaker unattended would jeopardise your position as his bodyguard," responded Prowl, "and taking him into Steeljaw's office isn't the best course of action. Obviously."

Jazz looked around with a little desperation trying to figure out where he could leave Sunstreaker without anyone noticing. His optics then landed on the elevators and an idea popped into his head. "I can leave him in a elevator after gently knocking him out," suggested Jazz.

"A good idea," responded Prowl, "and the elevator shaft has an access vent within that can take you straight to Steeljaw's office."

This was starting to sound like a good idea only there were still a few problems. "The elevators all have security cameras and I'm certain Steeljaw has upped the security all around."

At first there was no response from Prowl and Jazz assumed that he was possibly have a ponder over the situation. He then finally responded with, "let me know when you're in the elevator." Jazz wondered what he was up to since Prowl didn't say anything else after that. He could only hope he had come up with a good idea. Then again this was Prowl and he did normally come up with half decent plans.

So the evening dragged on with Sunstreaker exploring everything the hotel had to offer, even stopping by the bar to drink a the strangest cocktail Jazz had ever seen. Jazz stood by as Sunstreaker lounged at the bar and kept a close optic on certain mechs who stared longingly at the model. Sunstreaker ignored them of course, though now that Jazz thought about it Sunstreaker appeared to be in some sort of mood. He wasn't his usual self. The model was normally cheery in his own unique way but now he just seemed a little out of it. Jazz thought that spending a free night in a lavish hotel would make anyone smile constantly but Sunstreaker seemed to be sad about something.

Jazz was about to ask if everything was alright but Sunstreaker suddenly asked him, "Jazz if you were trying to protect someone by putting them through unimaginable things, would you ever forgive yourself?"

That question came absolutely out of nowhere. What did he even mean by it? "I guess it depends what I put 'em through," replied Jazz, not really focused on answering such a query.

"But would you forgive yourself?" asked Sunstreaker, a hint of desperation in his tone.

Thinking about it for a moment Jazz actually imagined if he had put someone through hell just to keep them safe. There were quite a number of incidents during the war that made think about the past choices he made, but they were all for the sake of those he was trying to protect.

"It's a tough one," he admitted, "but as long as you're able to protect 'em, then that long walk through hell would be worth it."

Sunstreaker appeared to have appreciated Jazz's answer and he took another sip of his drink. "Thank you Jazz," he said with a smile.

"It's what I'm here for," chuckled Jazz.

Sunstreaker uttered a quiet laugh before yawning. "I think I wish to retire for the night."

As Sunstreaker hopped off the bar stool Jazz sent Prowl a quick ping. "We're on our way," he texted.

Prowl responded with a, "finally! Let me know once you're in."

Jazz was still curious as to what was Prowl planning. He was keen to ask but past experiences told him to trust whatever he was up to without questioning it. So he followed Sunstreaker through the lobby, passing the watchful security mechs and entered a VIP elevator. As the doors closed behind them Jazz notified Prowl that they were in and waited for what was to come next. As they passed a few floors nothing seemed to be happening. Jazz wasn't sure what he was expecting but nothing happened and they were already halfway up to their destination. He was about to ping Prowl when there was a sudden loud bang.

The elevator shuddered violently as it suddenly stopped moving and the lights instantly went out leaving the pair of them in the dark. Sunstreaker shrieked and cursed as he clung to a railing, trying to steady himself as the elevator continued to shake. Jazz switched on his night vision mode and stood over Sunstreaker to act as a shield just in case. Once everything had stopped shaking Jazz stepped back from the model and looked around to asses what had just transpired. A red warning light lit above them barely gave them any light to see normally and the security camera in the upper corner was dead including the emergency comm system. In the distance Jazz could hear the sound of machinery dying down and panicked screams in the distance. What the frag had just happened?

His answer arrived in the form of a long text from Prowl. "I sabotaged the main generator and all the back up ones for the hotel. Take care of Sunstreaker and get into that office. I can spare you at least twenty minutes before the engineers show up."

Jazz could not believe it. Prowl actually sabotaged all the generators for the hotel that quick? How did he even pull that off? Also, why the frag didn't he just tell him that he was going to do that in the first place? Regardless this was a golden opportunity and he had to act fast, he'd save the telling off for later. Looking over at Sunstreaker with his night vision he could see that he seemed a little panicked and was unable to see anything in the pitch black. If he just left him in here Sunstreaker might fire him for abandoning him, thus the only option was to carefully knock him out. Jazz took great care as he reached for the model's neck, planning to send a non lethal jolt of energy through him to knock him out. He was going to have to be quick too, he didn't want Sunstreaker to remember that Jazz had touched him.

However before he could even graze his metal skin Sunstreaker suddenly demanded, "Jazz, I need you to get out of this elevator."

Jazz paused with surprise and answered with a, "what?"

Sunstreaker seemed to be panicking about something. "You have to get out and find Sideswipe," he begged, "the whole hotel must had lost power and he can't handle situations like this. Oh Primus he must be terrified."

"I'm certain Sideswipe will be fine," declared Jazz, thinking Sunstreaker was overreacting with his brother's wellbeing yet again.

"No, you don't understand," explained Sunstreaker in desperation, "Sideswipe hates the dark and he hates being trapped in a mob of panicking lunatics. Put those both together and he'll suffer a terrible panic attack."

Jazz knew that Sideswipe had to be fine and was about to counter this but he instantly realised that this was a golden opportunity to get out of the trapped elevator without having to knock Sunstreaker out. He couldn't pass this up no matter what. "Are you sure you'll be fine on your own?" he asked.

"Jazz you should know by now that every elevator in the Towers is fitted with special braking systems to prevent them from falling," huffed Sunstreaker, "I'll be fine and safe in here, now please just go. I won't tell anyone you left my side just please find Sideswipe."

Not arguing against this Jazz reached for the vent above him and removed it, pulling himself up and into the elevator shaft. "Stay safe," said Jazz, before crawling into a nearby vent.

"I'm not exactly going anywhere," sighed Sunstreaker.

Jazz quickly crawled through the vent, taking care not to make too much noise but the screams and cries of the panicking guests masked the sounds he made. Peering out of a vent cover he could see guests and employees stumbling about in the dark. Some of them had torches but they weren't enough to illuminate the darkened rooms. Jazz crawled on until he reached another elevator shaft. Checking the plans to the hotel that Prowl had sent to him he actually needed to climb a few floors to reach Steeljaw's office. Reaching for the cables he started to pull himself upwards, climbing as fast and as carefully as he could.

He was halfway up when he got a ping from Prowl. The text he sent read, "are you there yet?"

Jazz huffed as he replied back with, "thanks for the warning."

"I needed your reaction to look genuine," explained Prowl, "is Sunstreaker taken care of?"

"Oh yeah, real easy," replied Jazz reaching the floor he needed to be on, "I'll call you once I'm inside Steeljaw's office."

Reaching for the door within the shaft Jazz grunted as he forced it open. He hopped out and closed the door behind him just in case someone accidentally walked through it and proceeded towards Steeljaw's office. With his night vision he spotted a few guests trying to get about and calling out for assistance. He also spotted some of the security guards from before but thankfully they were too preoccupied with the panicking guests. He eventually recognised where he was and found the door to the waiting room where he had sat with Sideswipe during his job interview, well it wasn't exactly an interview it was more like Sunstreaker getting Sideswipe the job. Inside he spotted the secretary fiddling with the unresponsive lights and not even noticing as Jazz snuck past her. Carefully opening the door into the office Jazz peered in and found that no one was inside and it was just as dark as it was everywhere else.

Closing the door behind him carefully he commed Prowl. "I'm in," he confirmed.

"Good," replied Prowl, "I'm looking through your visor right now. Start with his desk."

"I know how to search an office Prowl," huffed Jazz approaching the large desk. Some of the drawers were locked but Jazz was able to get them open with some old fashioned lock picking. As he worked to get them open he noticed something on the wall and looked up to see an interesting collection. "Hey Prowl, you see what I'm seein'?"

"I am," replied Prowl, "and it's certainly interesting."

Upon the wall were hundreds of decorated swords all lined up for display. Some looked extremely expensive and designed in an insane way making one question if you could actually use them in combat, whilst others appeared to be custom made and also dangerously sharp. Although he was impressed with the vivid collection Jazz was also wondering if Steeljaw had used any of them for their true purpose. It was too dark to study them further but Jazz was certain that some of these blades had been used and not for friendly sparring.

"I wonder if he used any of these recently," questioned Jazz aloud.

"It's a possibility," said Prowl over the comm.

Although he wanted to say who Steeljaw might had used these blades upon Jazz returned his focus to his lock picking and got the first drawer open. Nothing that caught his interest, just management logs and records regarding expenses spent on the hotel. The next drawer he unlocked was full of stationary and a box of expensive looking cygars. The third was just full of records on employees and the fourth was filled with high grade engergon wine. Jazz bit his lip as nothing of interest turned up but he realised that if Steeljaw wanted to hide his secrets he wouldn't put them in such obvious places. He checked the desk again and as luck would have it he found what appeared to be a secret drawer. The lock was hidden behind a decorative emblem and it was slightly more difficult to open but he managed and never did the clicking sound of something unlocking ever sounded so sweet.

Peering into the open drawer Jazz found a couple of items of interest. One was some sort of log d-pad and within it contained a list of names, dates and huge shanix figures.

"What could this mean?" Jazz continued to flip through the log and found a familiar name. "Frizter 7th cycle 14 orbital 20,000,000 shanix." That was over seven months ago. Was Steeljaw collecting money from these bots and if so, why were they paying him? Blackmail was the first thing that came to mind but somehow it didn't seem like that. Knowing he didn't have enough time to read the whole thing he downloaded a copy of the d-pad into his internal hard drive for Prowl to have a look at later.

Placing it back inside the drawer he had a look at the other item of interest. It was a single folder and as Jazz flipped it open he could not help but gasp. "Prowl, can you see this?"

"Yes I can," replied Prowl, a hint of interest in his voice.

The folder displayed a few photos of Nightbeat, most of them taken without him realising it. Jazz could feel his spark pulse at a high rate as he finally found something that could tell him what happened to his dear friend. There were a few reports from Steeljaw's henchmechs and there were also some notes with things that said "who hired this detective?" and "what is he after?" Jazz took in everything he found within the folder until he found what appeared to be a letter. It didn't say who it was from or who it was addressed to but the topic was regarding Nightbeat so Jazz quickly read it.

"The detective that had been snooping around has been dealt with. We can now continue with our business and our future plans undisturbed. As far as the media is concerned he died from an accidental fall off a bridge. I don't know who hired him but we can only assume whoever did has decided to back off. We cannot risk getting exposed. If anyone were to discover our little side business then we are all screwed."

As he lowered the letter from his face Jazz could hardly believe it. They were right. This whole time he and Prowl were right. Nightbeat didn't accidentally slip from a bridge, he had been murdered and this letter was proof. He was about to stuff it into his sub space when Prowl suddenly spoke through the comm link.

"Jazz, leave it."

"Leave it?" What was wrong with Prowl? "We finally have proof that Nightbeat was murdered and you want me to leave it? Explain to me right now why I should?" demanded Jazz.

"Proving that he was murdered is the first step," explained Prowl calmly, "but we still don't know-"

"Oh c'mon Prowl," growled Jazz, "it was clearly Steeljaw who did it."

Prowl made an agitated sigh before continuing. "I was going to say that we still don't know what Nightbeat was investigating. Bringing in his murderer is one thing but leaving a case he was trying to solve unfinished would be an insult to his memory."

Jazz found he could not argue with that. As much as he would have loved to bring Nightbeat's killer to justice he knew that Nightbeat could never properly rest in peace whilst his final case was left unsolved. Sure they would be bringing in his killer but that same killer would have the last laugh knowing that whatever illegal business he had been conducting was still safe from the law. It took a lot of willpower but Jazz placed the letter back but not before uploading a copy of it into his hard drive.

"Good," said Prowl, pleased that Jazz had some sense in him, "now I've been looking at this log of his. A lot of bots had been paying him huge sums of shanix but it doesn't state what for."

"Drugs maybe?" guessed Jazz.

"Unless he was supplying them with mountains of the stuff I'm going to have to cross out that idea," sighed Prowl, "this Frizter shows up a few times within the same month and paying huge sums as if it were nothing."

"Blackmail then?" guess Jazz once again.

"No, if it were blackmail then there would be set dates," muttered Prowl, "these dates are all random and the amount of shanix keeps changing."

Jazz pondered for a moment. "So if it ain't drugs or blackmail... maybe it's some sort of service." But as to what that was they still didn't know.

"Ok Jazz you've been in long enough," stated Prowl, "leave a bug behind and get out."

"Can do," replied Jazz, fishing out a micro stealth bug from his sub space that even he could barely see in his own hands. 

As he set it up behind some sort of statue Prowl suddenly asked him, "how did you deal with Sunstreaker? You didn't hit him over the head, did you?"

Jazz had to stop himself from laughing. "Don't be silly," he lightly chuckled, "though it did surprise me how it all worked out."

"Explain," demanded Prowl, who sounded like he was a little concerned.

"Well he's constantly worried sick 'bout his brother," explained Jazz with a grin, "thinkin' he's sick when he's not or upset when he ain't. He practically begged me to get out of the elevator to find him, thinks he'll suffer from a panic attack or somethin' but I know that he's ok."

Prowl was quiet for a moment before saying, "so you aren't aware that this Sideswipe suffers from claustrophobic and nyctophobia?"

Jazz paused with setting up the bug. "What?"

"I was looking into his files, since at the time I was suspecting him of Nightbeat's murder, elaborated Prowl, "and according to his medical history he suffers from claustrophobia and a fear of the dark due to trauma he suffered in his youth. Apparently he gets real bad panic attacks."

As Jazz stood in that dark office a sudden feeling of dread began to swell within him and he almost dropped the bug. The very thought of Sideswipe being trapped and scared left a horrid feeling electrocute through his entire being. He didn't thinks gay he was in any real danger for every time Sunstreaker asked him to make certain Sideswipe was alright he was alright, and even Sideswipe told him that his brother had a habit of overreacting. However if what Prowl said was true then the poor kid was probably wandering through a dark narrow hallway filled with panicking guests scared out of his mind. Scrap. He had to go find him.

He was about to bolt out the office when Prowl barked, "Jazz, the bug!"

"Right, right," grunted Jazz as he hastily set up the bug and slammed all the drawers shut.

He then sprinted out of the office and into a large lobby filled with chaos. Jazz checked the hotel plans to see where the employees hung out when they weren't working, if Sideswipe was taking a break he might still be down there. Once he located it on one of the lower floors he ran through the darkness, avoiding the blind guests and any other obstacle that got in his way.

"Jazz would you focus on the task at hand," demanded Prowl over the comm.

"I have to make sure he's alright," snapped Jazz, jumping down some stairs.

"I'm certain he's alright," huffed Prowl, "the darkness isn't going to kill him."

"We got what we need Prowl," argued Jazz, "now please let me help him. I ain't gonna leave him alone in this mess we made."

Prowl mumbled something that Jazz couldn't make out and then finally said, "fine, but you and I need to have a talk about this."

After Prowl hung up on him Jazz uttered a simple, "whatever," and made his way to the employee area of the hotel. Inside it was just as chaotic as it was in all the guest areas, with clerks screaming like sparklings, cleaners tripping over themselves, and the security guards demanding that everyone remain calm, their requests falling upon deaf audios. Jazz could see how most of them were acting crazy over the whole thing, trying to feel for something solid and call out for assistance hoping that someone would help. Jazz navigated through them all, making certain he didn't make any contact with them. He searched every single room, checked in every closet and under every table and even tried to call out for him but no one would be able to hear him over the screaming.

Turning a corner he suddenly spotted a familiar shape huddled in a corner with panicking employees tripping over him. Jazz immediately sprinted over to to the corner, pushing everyone else out of the way and bending down until he was optic level with the shivering ball. "Sideswipe? Sideswipe its me Jazz."

Sideswipe didn't respond to him at first but was shaking like mad and muttering sentences that made no sense. Jazz gently reached to take a soothing hold of the terrified mech but the moment he did Sideswipe shrieked and slapped at him. "Who? W-WHAT!? N-no! No!"

Through his night vision he could see how terrified Sideswipe was. His face was dripping in coolant, his optics were darting around in desperation to find who touched him, and he was shaking so bad he had not his lips a couple of times. Jazz took a firmer hold and leaned in to say, "Sideswipe its me, it's Jazz."

Uggggh," groaned Sideswipe curling back into a ball, "too dark, too dark."

Jazz felt incredibly guilty as he stared at the sad state that Sideswipe had been reduced to. If he had known that Sideswipe had such fears from enclosed and dark spaces he would have ran straight for him instead of going to Steeljaw's office, and having panicked bots running around him wasn't helping. Hoisting him into his arms he carried him out of the chaos and into a more quiet area. He was still shaking like mad and uttering words that were utter nonsense. He felt cold in his arms and he would not stop shaking no matter what Jazz did.

"Sideswipe c'mon," pleaded Jazz, "snap outta of it."

Sideswipe did not respond to his pleas and continued to shiver and whimper in fright. He was also venting at a super fast rate. He needed some light and a wide open space to help him calm down but until they got the lights back on Jazz wasn't sure where he could take him. Looking around for something, anything to help Sideswipe, Jazz spotted some sort of light source up ahead and remembered that there was a garden around here with crystal trees that glowed in the dark. They weren't that bright but they should be bright enough for Sideswipe. It was an open space too and hopefully a good spot for Sideswipe to calm down.

Carrying the shivering Sideswipe down the hall and out into the garden Jazz was surprised to find it was empty, thinking that maybe some of the guests would had tried to come here for a little light source. Still that was a good thing for the last thing Sideswipe needed was to listen to more cries of fear and pandemonium. It wasn't that bright but there was enough light illuminating from the trees for Jazz to switch off his night vision. Setting aside down on a bench he sent a quick page to Sunstreaker to alert him that he found his brother and where they were now located. Once it had been sent he returned his attention to Sideswipe who was still in the middle of his panic attack. He seemed to be a little more calmer but he was still dripping with coolant and still appeared to be distressed. Jazz had dealt with soldiers who suffered with PTSD in the past so hopefully he could treat this.

Reaching for Sideswipe's chassis he gently pried it open to reveal the young mech's spark. It's pulse rate was far too high, so high that it made Jazz cringe so in order to calm it down Jazz opened up the protective casing exposing it to the cool air. It was a dangerous type of treatment since the spark was laid bare but out in the field Jazz had witnessed medics do it and was even briefed by one on how it was done. The spark would overheat if left pulsing at a high rate so keeping it cool would prevent it from burning up or worse. Jazz reached for a particularly thick line that pumped the mech-blood around Sideswipe's body and removed it from where it was connected, quickly adding his own energon line in its place. This was to help slow down Sideswipe's pulse rate, tricking his body into thinking that Jazz's pulse rate was his own and hopefully it would help him eventually calm down.

It was all Jazz could do right now so he knelt there right next to Sideswipe, stroking his brow with tender hands and keeping his over heated body as cool as he could. He was calmer than before now and was more relaxed but he was still slipping in and out of it, uttering small pained gasps and whimpers every now and then. He looked so fragile than before in this state, looking like he would break any moment now. If Jazz had been any later Sideswipe's spark might have burned through his casing and would have caused serious medical problems. If only he went for him first instead of going to Steeljaw's office.

"I'm sorry kid," sighed Jazz, wiping the coolant away from his pale face.

He stayed there with him, even as the lights of the hotel came back on he stayed there by his side.

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A whole half day had passed since they returned from the hotel and Jazz sat in his room wondering how Sideswipe was faring. Right after Sunstreaker found them he demanded Steeljaw to arrange transport to take them home. Sideswipe had been doing alright since he carried him back from the hotel and back to the estate but he was still in need of medical attention. The moment they returned to the estate Sideswipe was taken into his room and Sunstreaker called for the best medic in the city to attend to him. They were still in Sideswipe's room with the medic taking care of the poorly red mech and Sunstreaker trying to remain calm over his brothers health.

Jazz hated sitting around doing nothing. Prowl got back to him and said he would arrange a meeting between them so they could discuss what they found at Steeljaw's office. Sunstreaker kept his word not to tell anyone that Jazz abandoned him in a elevator but at the moment he was too preoccupied with his brothers health. Thankfully Steeljaw didn't seem to suspect that Jazz had been snooping around in his office, he was trying to deal with what had happened to his hotel. So far Jazz wasn't in any trouble and they got what they needed from Steeljaw's office but Jazz didn't feel so happy about it. Sideswipe suffered through something he had made and all he could feel was guilt. 

Wanting to see how he was doing Jazz forced himself out of the chair he had been slumping in and made his way out of his room and outside Sideswipe's door. The door was ajar allowing him to peer in to see Sunstreaker speaking with the medic and Sideswipe fast asleep in his berth. He looked much better now. The medic must have finished up for he excused himself and made his way out of the room. Jazz stood back as the medic stepped out. Once he was gone he peered back on to see Sunstreaker had taken a seat next to Sideswipe's berth and was just staring at him with optics full of concern.

Jazz cleared his throat as he stepped in and Sunstreaker teared his optics away from his brother to acknowledge Jazz's presence. "He's doing much better," informed the model, "he just needs rest for a couple of days."

That was a good thing to hear. "Does he... normally have panic attacks like that?" asked Jazz.

"It depends on the situation," sighed Sunstreaker, "but he can't stand enclosed dark spaces and being surrounded by all that chaos didn't help. This one was the worse I've seen so far. He only had one a couple hundred years ago and that was because he accidentally locked himself in a closet." Sunstreaker chuckled lightly over the memory but his mood was still sour. "It was all because of what she did."

"She?" Jazz wasn't aware of who Sunstreaker was referring to.

"The matron who raised me and Sideswipe," explained Sunstreaker as he rested his helm upon his bent arm, "she would lock up any of the sparklings as a form of punishment in this tiny locker she kept in a dark closet. She wasn't particularly fond of my brother and when he accidentally broke some cheap lamp she sealed him in there for a whole day. She punished him so often he eventually developed these fears and anxieties." The model sighed sadly as the trip down memory lane was clearly an unenthusiastic one. "He got so scared of the dark he begged me to keep the nightlight on. He couldn't stand being in small rooms or tight spaces, he even stopped playing in our secret fort we made under our berth."

Jazz recalled Sideswipe's stories of his rough youth at his preschool but Jazz had no idea that it traumatised him like this. He had acted like it was just a simple kid-with-a-bully-of-a-matron story but now it sounded more like an evil wrench who terrorised him and it messed him up real bad. He looked at Sideswipe as he slumbered peacefully in his berth. It didn't seem possible that someone like him could suffer from such cruelty. 

Sunstreaker rose from where he sat and strolled over to Sideswipe's data pad collection. His fingers slowly dragged across the vast collection until he pulled out a worn one. "Oh, I used to read this to Sideswipe all the time when we were little." 

Jazz recognised the data pad in Sunstreaker's hands, it was that Prisoner of the Dragons Tower story. "He must've liked it to keep a hold of it for so long."

"It was his favourite story," chuckled Sunstreaker, staring at the data pad with fond optics, "though I never told him how it ended. I thought he would cry if I told him that the maiden died at the end, so I lied to him and told him she lived happily ever after with her hero." Sunstreaker sighed as he placed it down. "Sometimes we have to tell lies to ensure the ones we love stay happy, it's better than them finding out the truth."

Jazz couldn't deny that he had told a lie or two to protect the ones he cared about. "Didn't he figure out how it really ended?"

Sunstreaker laughed a little at this question. "The truth is I'm not certain. I know he read it but he never once questioned why the ending was different to the one I told him. Maybe he didn't care or maybe he just forgot, I don't know." He looked back over at his brother still in a deep sleep. "I never did properly thank you for getting to him and aiding him like that."

"It's ok," said Jazz with a shrug, "I'm just glad he's ok."

The model smiled at Jazz and then returned his attention back to his brother. "I'd like to be alone with him for while," he said.

Complying with Sunstreaker's request Jazz stepped out of the room but not before looking back at the young mech one last time. Heading back to his room Jazz could not help but feel relieved that Sideswipe was going to be ok but angry with himself at the same time.


	14. Chapter 14

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, someone suffering a panic attack

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Staring at the cold grease burger before him Jazz sighed as he prodded it a little with a lazy finger, watching as the thick oil oozed out of it and onto the plate. Resting his helm upon a bent arm the veteran was lost in his thoughts and they were mainly about Sideswipe. The young mech was still resting from his panic attack from the hotel and although he was in better health now Jazz found he couldn't face him yet. Sideswipe suffered because of what he did back at the Heights. Trapped in the dark and surrounded by the cries of frenzy guests Sideswipe suffered a terrible panic attack and Jazz felt responsible for it. Prowl had to cut the power to the hotel because Jazz was unable to think of a way to get into Steeljaw's office undetected and he didn't bother to help Sideswipe first, rather he ran straight to the office. If he had heeded Sunstreaker's plea to aid his brother and had gone to Sideswipe first then maybe his little episode wouldn't had been so bad.

Jazz wanted to check in on Sideswipe when he was finally awake but that part of him that felt guilty about the whole thing would step in to remind him what Sideswipe was recovering from, so he never really did pop in. Sunstreaker was constantly going in and out to check in on him and arranged a medic to hang around the estate when he had to go to work. Speaking of work Sideswipe had to take some time off as well and Jazz recalled how angry he got when Steeljaw got a hold of Sunstreaker and said that his brother needed to get back to work at the Heights ASAP. Apparently it was tourist season and they were a little short on workers. Sunstreaker however insisted that Sideswipe needed a decent break before going back to work, stating that Steeljaw could handle it for now. Jazz was just thankful that Sunstreaker was indeed a compassionate brother.

Pushing his cold meal away and sighing heavily Jazz knew that at some point he was going to have to see Sideswipe and face what he did. He recalled his trembling frame, his sweating face, his diluted optics filled with confusion and fear. He knew that Sideswipe was delicate but after what happened he now saw him as someone who was incredibly fragile. To think that he had gone through eight hundred years of this difficult life of his, Jazz could not help but feel like the young mech had surpassed him in some way. Yes he had fought in a terrible war that had only taken up a fraction of his life but Sideswipe had gone through all this angst and grief through all his life and was still able to smile every now and then. Battles take all sorts of forms and it takes those with a strong will to get through them, though Sideswipe was close to giving up. If Jazz hadn't shown up when he did in this city he would never had met Sideswipe and the young mech would had eventually drown in his sorrow.

"Jazz!"

The sharp voice pulled Jazz from his thoughts and he looked up to stare at Prowl, sitting opposite of him and bearing a foul expression.

"Were you even listening?" barked Prowl, tapping the dirty table with an agitated finger.

"I... no, sorry," sighed Jazz knowing he would unable to create a suitable lie.

Prowl dragged a hand down his face and suppressed the urge to shout. "For the love of Primus, we are at a critical point in this investigation Jazz, and I need you to at least pay attention for ten minutes." Reaching for the cup of energon tea, Prowl took a quick sip before placing it back on its saucer and leaning forward to stare intensely at Jazz. "Why are you a million miles away?" he demanded.

Jazz sighed. He knew he had to listen for the sake of solving this investigation but he just couldn't focus. He kept thinking back to Sideswipe and what happened at the Heights. "I'm sorry Prowl," he muttered, "I jus' feel bad that we put the kid through that. It really messed him up and if I were any later it might have been worse."

"You're thinking about the kid again?" Prowl didn't look impressed. "He's not dead Jazz, he just went through a panic attack."

"I know, but if we hadn't done what we did he wouldn't have to suffer like that," said Jazz, his tone laced with his guilt.

Prowl shook his head in disbelief. "Jazz there were over twenty other guests at that hotel who suffered panic attacks when I cut the power, the kid wasn't the only one and from what I heard it wasn't that serious," he stated, "and why are you blaming yourself over this? It was my idea. I cut the power, not you."

"I should've gone to him first," sighed Jazz.

"What difference would that have made?" argued Prowl, "Primus, it's like you want to blame your-..." Prowl's face slowly lit up with realisation and he looked at Jazz with shock. "You do like him."

That accusation made Jazz sit up. "Hey, woah now," he huffed, "it ain't like that. I jus' feel like I-... we should take some responsibility for what-..."

"Oh really," sneered Prowl cutting him off, his left optic brow raised slightly, "what about these dancing lessons you promised him?"

Jazz cringed, almost forgetting that Prowl had been listening in on that conversation. "That was just a distraction so his brother wouldn't find out we..." Jazz forced himself to stop talking before he said too much but Prowl was onto him.

"A distraction from what? What have you been doing with him?" demanded Prowl.

Scrap. Jazz knew he had no choice but to reveal the truth otherwise Prowl might make a wild assumption. "I've been... kinda teachin' him how to... er... swordfight."

"YOU WHAT!?" Prowl actually stood up and his voice was so loud it caught the attention of everyone in the restaurant.

"It was just a couple of lessons," stated Jazz, urging Prowl to calm down. "You're overreacting, just relax."

"We came here to find out what happened to Nightbeat," hissed Prowl, grinding his teeth in frustration as he sat back down, "and you've been flirting with a little punk by teaching him how to fight with swords!"

"I wasn't flirtin' with him," snapped Jazz, "he asked me to teach him."

"Why didn't you say no?" hissed Prowl.

Jazz's voice was caught in his throat and he was unable to answer at first. He did manage to force out the words, "he wouldn't take no for an answer."

Prowl slumped into his seat, which was actually rare to see, and rubbed his temples. "What is it with you and red mech's?" he sighed, "I should have known something was up when you kept going on at how I shouldn't suspect him of murder."

"It's not like that," huffed Jazz, "I seriously doubt that the kid ever committed the crime. He was just misunderstood."

"Then what is this relationship you formed with him?" demanded Prowl. "You're very protective of him at the moment."

"We're just good friends," declared Jazz.

Prowl looked like he didn't believe him. "Jazz just promise me that you'll remain focused on this investigation, for Nightbeat's sake," he pleaded, "when it's all over then you can go flirt with him to your sparks content."

"It ain't-... argh, just forget it," huffed Jazz, folding his arms angrily. "Let's just get back to the investigation if it'll get you off my back."

Prowl merely rolled his optics as he sat up. "Let's just review with what we now know, we've wasted enough time," he muttered. He looked around to make certain there were no green mechs in sight before starting. "So we know that Nightbeat was indeed murdered."

"It had to have been Steeljaw," declared Jazz, certain that that silver glossa deviant was responsible for Nightbeat's end.

"We don't know that," sighed Prowl, "the letter just said he had been dealt with but not by whom, we don't even know who wrote the letter or who it was addressed to, though Steeljaw is definitely a suspect at the moment."

At least he was on the suspect list, that meant he was good as guilty. "What was that record book all about?" asked Jazz.

"It's clearly a record of Steeljaw receiving huge amounts of shanix from various clients," explained Prowl showing Jazz an example of the names and shanix recorded, "it doesn't state what the service is but some in the names in there belonged to high profile bots. Even all the names of the Tower's CEO council are listed in there. Well, almost all of them."

"Whose name ain't there then?" asked Jazz.

"The one in charge of them all," replied Prowl, "that Platinum fellow."

So everyone on the Towers CEO council were listed in the book except for Platinum. That could either mean that Steeljaw wasn't providing him service or... "Could he and Steeljaw be workin' together?"

"Funny you should mention that," answered Prowl, "I was curious as to why Platinum was getting more shanix than he should so I cross referenced the dates with the ones in the book and according to the transactions in his bank account he gets big deposits from an unknown sender around the same dates."

This was making a little sense. "I do hear him go on about bookin' appointments with certain bots whenever I see him," said Jazz, recalling at the time Platinum was speaking with another CEO about booking an appointment at that gathering in the Omega Arena, though he never would had thought that someone like Steeljaw would associate himself with the likes of Platinum. In fact why were they even working together? 

"Any idea why those two would be workin' together?" asked Jazz, "They don't seem like the type to team up." 

"Why else," sighed Prowl, "they could care less about each other. They're obviously working together for a profit."

"Agreed," replied Jazz, "Though what service are they providin' and what kinda service would someone pay so much for?"

Prowl rested his chin upon his hands. "Drugs are out of the question," he stated, "no one in the Towers would pay so much for a substance like that, especially when you can get it anywhere. It would have to be some sort of activity."

"An activity? Who'd pay so much for that and what kind of activity is it?" Jazz knew there were a lot of shady things people would pay for but the numbers in that record book were really high. Whatever it was there were bots who would pay insane sums of shanix for it. It had to be unique, something you'd pay anything to get. As Jazz let his optics wander he spotted on of those floating adverts with that Blue Flame model advertising some sort of holiday location. A few mech's were gazing up at it with love sick optics.

"It's is possible he could be selling some sort of illegal merchandise," suggested Prowl as he finished his tea, "or maybe it is some sort of blackmail or-..."

"Models."

Prowl glanced up at Jazz upon hearing that. "Excuse me?"

It didn't make sense to Prowl at first but Jazz understood it clearly, he had been in the Towers long enough to understand it. "Prowl think about it," explained Jazz, "what's the one thing everyone in this city wants to do, more than anythin'?"

It suddenly dawned on Prowl what Jazz was on about. "The no touch policy," he murmured.

"Thunderhoof was sellin' those things his guys up top collect from the models and makin' a killin' off it," explained Jazz, "imagine what one would pay to actually touch a model?"

"But how though?" questioned Prowl, "the no touch policy applies to everyone in the Towers no matter their status and anyone caught touching a model can spend a life sentence in prison."

Good point. "Unless there was a place they can do it without anyone watchin'," suggested Jazz.

Prowl saw where this was going. "Steeljaw owns hotels and clubs, many of which are unlisted. A secret hideaway where one can partake in unlawful activities even to touch a model."

"Exactly," said Jazz with a triumphant grin and believing he cracked it.

At first Prowl said nothing and pondered upon this theory. "How though? They can't just whisk the models away like that, they are all protected by their bodyguards."

"True," agreed Jazz, "but those bodyguards work for Thunderhoof remember?"

"Who also works for Steeljaw," said Prowl, now seeing how these pieces were slowly fitting together. "They must use those sleeping drugs they purchase from Knockout, administer them upon the models without them realising it and then somehow transport them to this secret club."

This was starting to sound like a genuine theory coming to life but Jazz thought of something that slightly hindered it. "How'd they transport the models though? Someone is gonna notice a drugged model being dragged across the city."

This time Prowl had the answer. "Those giant cases, the one Brawl left in his room," he declared slamming an open palm upon the table, "they're big and heavily padded, big enough to carry a mech of any size and padded enough so the one inside doesn't get injured from the transport. The bodyguards wait until their model is safe in their homes and secretly slip them the drugs. Once the model is knocked out the bodyguards load them into the cases and transport them across the city without anyone realising what their cargo is."

"Holy scrap," muttered Jazz, seeing how all of this suddenly made a whole lot of sense. "This must be what Nightbeat was lookin' into before they got rid of him."

"So just to recap," coughed Prowl, "Platinum and Steeljaw secretly provide an illegal service where anyone can get their hands on a model provided they have the shanix to do it. Platinum handles the bookings and provides the models, Steeljaw provides the establishment and uses Thunderhoof to employ loyal bodyguards to transport the models across they city without anyone realising it."

"That sounds about right," agreed Jazz, certain they had cracked it.

Prowl however didn't seem convinced. "What about those other clues Nightbeat left behind? Beauty Immortal? Sunstreaker's paint? An incident we know nothing about? That magazine article? Where do they fit in?"

Jazz was just as stumped as Prowl was. "I dunno Prowl," he sighed.

"And what about Sideswipe?" huffed Prowl, "Nightbeat recorded him as a high risk in his investigation and this whole case revolves around the Mortal Sol somehow. We may have one part of this puzzle figured out but there are still many pieces left and we have to find their place in this."

That was still a mystery to the both of them. What did Sideswipe have to do with anything in this investigation? The only thing that connected him to anything was that he was the brother of the Mortal Sol. There was also that footage where Nightbeat was chasing Sideswipe across the bridge not too long before he died, but Sideswipe had told him him he never met him before with a straight face. There were still many things they had yet to understand but Jazz was certain that it would all soon become clear and one thing was certain: Steeljaw was responsible for Nightbeat's murder, Jazz was certain of it.

Prowl made a small cough as he pushed his cup away. "I must return to the station and continue my investigation on that Springer," he declared as he stood up. "Also that print specialist I told you about has gotten back to me and he will meet you tomorrow at Strongarm's precinct. I've been having trouble getting a hold of her lately, she seems preoccupied with something."

"Alright, I still have that print," said Jazz, "hopefully he'll tell us somethin' about it."

"Let's hope so," sighed Prowl as he made his way out of the restaurant. Before he reached the door he paused and looked back at Jazz. "I suppose you're going to give him that card you've tried to hide from me?"

Jazz flinched and stared down at the small bag he had tried to conceal from Prowl. "It's just a get well card," he said, "I saw on the way down and I though he'd like it."

Prowl rolled his optics. "Jazz don't forget why we're here," he said before leaving.

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Upon returning to the estate Jazz made his way to Sideswipe's room with the card he had purchased in hand. On the way back up he had written a suitable message inside the card, declaring his hope that Sideswipe had gotten better from his panic attack. Nothing too special, just a simple wish that the young mech was doing well. As he approached the room he could hear voices inside and was happy to hear that one of them belonged to Sideswipe and he sounded angry. That was a good thing at least, you needed energy to be angry though what he was angry about Jazz had yet to find out. Gently tapping at the door he cautiously opened it and peered in. The first mech he saw was Sunstreaker and he was holding a tray filled with energon treats and beverages. The next mech Jazz spotted was a medic who was in the middle of packing up his gear. Glancing over at the berth he spotted Sideswipe, wide awake sitting up and looked absolutely furious about something.

"I'm fine for the love of Primus," barked Sideswipe, his arms folded across his chassis.

"Now Sideswipe, you suffered one of your worst panic attacks from what happened the other day," declared Sunstreaker as he set the tray down. "One more day of berth rest and you can get up, the medic's orders."

"That's what you said yesterday," growled Sideswipe grinding his teeth.

"The medic noticed your energon pressure was a little high," explained Sunstreaker, "so once it's settled you have to stay rested."

"Gee, I wonder why that is," muttered Sideswipe.

Jazz decided not to intrude and headed back to his room to relax for a while. It was a relief to see that Sideswipe was indeed back to his old self, his foul mood was indeed a pleasant thing to see for a change. Sitting upon the chair within his room Jazz stared out into the vast city, the amazing view now plain to him. He looked at the card in his hands and he thought back to what Prowl had accused him of.

"I don't like him that way," he murmured to himself.

Strange. It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that fact like he had tried to convince Prowl. It was true though and he was certain of it, he didn't see Sideswipe like that. He was funny and could be sweet when he tried but Jazz didn't see him as a potential lover. He couldn't even imagine him like that. They were just good friends. Real good friends. Uncertain as to why Jazz suddenly felt annoyed with himself he placed the card down and thought back on what he and Prowl discussed earlier on.

Steeljaw. Platinum. Were those two really working together in a shady business? Did they really run some sort of exclusive club where anyone with the right shanix can touch a model to their sparks content? Regarding all of the clues they gathered so far it was all making some sense but Jazz felt that there were some missing pieces to this puzzle. There were also the pieces they had that didn't fit in anywhere, such as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker and this photo he had of the Mortal Sol. Then there was Springer and the Spark Flowers, how did any of them fit into any of this? The ultimate question that was on Jazz's mind and what had always been on his mind was who murdered Nightbeat. Prowl no longer suspected Sideswipe but he still could not ignore that he was on the same bridge moments before Nightbeat was killed.

What was he missing?

As he dwelled upon these important matters there was a knock upon his door. Before he could even ask who was there the door opened and in popped a familiar face.

"Sideswipe?" Before Jazz could even shoo him out, the red mech quickly stepped in and closed the door behind him. "You're supposed to be restin'," hissed Jazz as he stood up.

"Argh, you're starting to sound like Sunstreaker," groaned Sideswipe, trudging over towards an empty revolving chair and slumping into it. "I just need to get out of that room, he's driving me insane."

At first Jazz was about to send the young mech back to his room so that he could properly rest, but he came to the realisation that what Sideswipe really wanted and what he really needed was a break from his over bearing brother. Anyone could see that Sunstreaker was once again over reacting, Jazz just failed to see it due to the situation that lead to it all. Sunstreaker was indeed a caring and supportive brother, in his own unique way, but his love for Sideswipe was a little over the top and could drive anyone up the wall. It wouldn't hurt to have the Sideswipe relax in here for a while for it might do him some good.

"Fine but you're not here to have fun," declared Jazz with a generous but strict smile, "you're still poorly and I don't want you faintin' on me."

Sideswipe made a "phft" sound and rolled his optics. "As usual you're no fun," he muttered, a slight hint of sass in his voice.

Jazz said didn't reply but watched as Sideswipe spun around in the chair. "So... How are you feelin'?" he asked. It was a stupid question and one of the worst ice breakers ever invented but it was the only thing Jazz could think of.

"I'm fine," answered Sideswipe as he spun himself around some more, "I just had a panic attack, nothing serious."

"Nothing serious? Kid, you looked like your spark was goin' to implode when I found you." Jazz was a little shocked at Sideswipe's attitude towards something quite serious to his health.

"You can't die from a panic attack," argued Sideswipe, still spinning in the chair and talking with a playful tone.

"Yes you can," said Jazz, his voice sterner then usual.

Sideswipe made an annoyed sound before attempting to change the subject. "So when are you going to teach me how to dance?"

Jazz sighed. Sideswipe clearly didn't want to talk about what happened back at the hotel for some reason. Maybe it stressed him out to hear about it or he wanted to pretend it never happened. Knowing he wasn't going to get him to talk about it Jazz decided to go along with the new topic. "I don't think we have to worry 'bout that dancin' too much after what happened."

"Have you forgotten who you are working for?" Sideswipe continued to talk whilst spinning upon the chair. "Sunstreaker will get me on the dance floor once I'm healthy again. Well, healthy in his optics."

"Do you really need lessons?" Jazz was fairly certain that Sideswipe could dance without being taught, he just had to get over his shyness.

"It was your idea remember," said Sideswipe, "you just got to show me something that will convince my brother that you've been teaching me how to dance."

Jazz sighed once more. It wasn't that he didn't want to teach Sideswipe but he was at a critical point with the investigation and Prowl wasn't pleased with this whole arrangement he had made with the young mech. He had hoped that he could carry on with the investigation whilst Sideswipe was recovering, but as it would happen Sideswipe didn't want to spend all day in his berth whilst his brother nursed him. All he had to do was give him one lesson and he was confident that Sideswipe would figure out how to do it. One evening wasn't going to hurt anyone and a little fun wasn't bad for ones health either.

"If nothing comes up we can go somewhere tomorrow night," promised Jazz, "but you got to get a good rest before then."

"Cool," replied Sideswipe still spinning in the chair.

Jazz frowned. Something was off about Sideswipe, his whole attitude had completely warped into something foreign. He wasn't acting like a self centred brat he normally did and Jazz was wondering why. At first he assumed it was because Sideswipe was just tired or he was still annoyed at how Sunstreaker was showering him with brotherly affection. It then dawned on Jazz that Sideswipe was holding something back. Even though he was spinning around upon that chair Jazz could see how tense he was and thinking back to how he was talking earlier his voice was a little lower than normal. Sideswipe had come in here for something, not to get away from Sunstreaker or his berth rest but for something he needed to get off his chassis, however he had yet to spill whatever it was.

Getting up from where he sat Jazz walked over to Sideswipe, forcing the revolving chair to stop spinning and turning it so he and Sideswipe were face to face. "Is somethin' wrong kid?" asked Jazz flat out.

Sideswipe was a little disoriented from all the spinning and he held onto the chair for support. He was a little flustered with how close Jazz was to him. "N-nothing," he answered, "I'm fine, really."

Jazz didn't believe him. "C'mon kid," he gently demanded, "what's wrong?"

Those words somehow broke Sideswipe's will and the young mech made an odd sound before answering. "It's just... I..." He glanced up at Jazz, his face filled with embarrassment. "Sunstreaker said you were the one who found me."

"I was," replied Jazz, stepping back a little.

Sideswipe made another odd sound before continuing. "How... how bad was I? W-when you found me? I can't remember much but..." He trailed off awkwardly.

This was what was bugging him? "You were clearly sufferin' one hell of a panic attack," replied Jazz, "I actually thought you were goin' to take a turn for the worse with the way you were."

"Oh." Sideswipe seemed to appear ashamed for some reason. "I'm sorry."

That was the last thing Jazz expected to hear from the young mech. Sorry? He was sorry? Why was he the one apologising, Jazz was the one who should be begging for forgiveness. "It wasn't your fault," assured Jazz forcing himself to smile, "the power went and you couldn't handle it. Don't feel bad about it."

Sideswipe still appeared distraught about the whole thing. "I just wish I wasn't so weak," he sighed, gently slapping the arm of the chair. "If I was stronger than none of this would have happened."

"You think you're weak?" Jazz was surprised to hear something like that from Sideswipe, especially with how he thought of that strong will he possessed. "You're a lot tougher than you lot kid."

Sideswipe snorted at the compliment. "Strong people don't have lame weaknesses like being afraid of small dark places," he muttered.

"That ain't true," retorted Jazz, "lots of people, strong and sturdy people all have weaknesses of their own." He gave Sideswipe a pat of the shoulder. "I got a few of my own you know." 

"You?" Sideswipe didn't seemed convinced. "How can someone like you have a weakness?"

Jazz grinned a little, feeling a little proud from hearing that. "Trust me, there are things about me I wish I could erase, but they are a part of me. All I can do is learn from what makes me weak and either cope with it or surpass it."

Sideswipe appeared intrigued. "Surpass it? Can it be done?"

"You have to want to surpass it," declared Jazz, though overcoming these panic attacks caused by dark and enclosed places would take a lot of time and a lot of effort. "It won't happen overnight but I think you'll overcome it eventually."

That appeared to had lightened Sideswipe's mood and he smiled a little. "Well I better get back to my room," he muttered as he pushed himself off his seat. "Last thing I need is- woah!" All that spinning around on the chair in his delicate state made him stumble forward. Jazz quickly reached out and grabbed him before he hit the floor, Sideswipe wrapping his arms around Jazz instinctively. Sideswipe winced as he held onto Jazz, his frame shivering a little. "Oh great, now I really feel sick," he groaned.

It was clear as day that Sideswipe needed to go back to his room and rest properly, but in his current state he wouldn't be able to walk back without tripping. Taking care not to harm him Jazz hosted him up and held him bridal style, something which caused Sideswipe to blush furiously.

"I'm not a sparkling," wailed Sideswipe struggling in vain to get out of Jazz's grip.

"Relax," assured Jazz as he walked out of his room, "I'm just takin' you back to your room so you can rest up. Can't have you fallin' over the place."

Sideswipe instantly gave in, knowing by now that whatever Jazz said goes, and tried to relax in Jazz's arms. He seemed a little uncomfortable despite how gentle Jazz was with him, and his face was still glowing a bright red possibly due to the embarrassment of it all. He was also warm to touch and Jazz was certain he could feel Sideswipe's spark pulsing a little faster than normal. Believing it was due to his condition Jazz shrugged it off and proceeded back to Sideswipe's room.


	15. Chapter 15

JazzXSideswipe fanfic  
Warnings so far: Murder mystery, scary dream, getting attacked

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Jazz sat upon a chair as he watched the small mech before him study the print of the Mortal Sol, hoping that something useful would come out of this. Prowl had managed to get a hold of his contact who was a whizz at photos and recordings, and Jazz was quite surprised that the mech in question was a minicon named Rewind. Despite his small size he had a the attitude and snark the size of a Titan and he clearly was skilled at his trade as he quickly explained how the process worked. They met up in a enforcer lab which Strongarm arranged for them to use, though she herself hadn't been there to let them in. According to the other enforcers she was in the middle of something important and was completely focused on it. Jazz didn't want to bother her so he and Rewind were alone in the lab and Jazz was fine with that.

"How long will this take?" asked Jazz out of interest.

"Somewhere you need to be?" retorted Rewind, completely focused on the print he was studying.

Jazz did have plans for tonight with Sideswipe but he knew he had plenty of time, unless this actually took longer than expected. "Later on I'm takin' this kid to a club, but I got plenty of time so there's no rush," explained Jazz.

Rewind glanced up for a moment. "A date?"

"N-no," stuttered Jazz, "it ain't a date,"

"You said you were taking someone to a club," retorted Rewind, "if that isn't a date I don't know what is."

"It's... complicated," sighed Jazz, "I'm just teaching someone how to dance and I figured a club is the best place to learn."

Jazz was certain he heard the minicon say, "sounds like a date to me." Thinking of the words "date" and "Sideswipe" made unwanted feelings stir in Jazz so he tried to think of something else. "So how did someone like you end up knowin' Prowl?"

"I met him through my Conjunx Endura," replied Rewind, carefully flipping the print over as he examined it further, "and before you say anything else, I am not his friend. I can't stand him and I wish I never met him."

"Oh," was all that Jazz said. "So why did you agree to help?"

"I knew Nightbeat," replied Rewind, "and though I didn't know him well enough to consider him a friend, I do admire that you are trying to finish what he started." Rewind sighed a little. "Domey, also said he couldn't stand it if something was left unfinished."

"Domey?"

"My Conjunx."

Jazz smiled a little, happy to know that there were bots out there willing to help despite what the general public believed. Nightbeat should be happy too, where ever he was right now. In life the detective had a habit of drawing people in with his wit and charm, he was like a magnet. No one could really hate him after coming to know him, and being around him was always interesting. Though he wasn't always perfect, he had a habit of analysing people without their consent and make them uncomfortable. It threw them off at first but when you look back at it, it was sort of funny, especially when he once believed Jazz to be some sort of cooking enthusiast. To think that someone like him was no longer in the world. It was unfair. Jazz was now determined more than ever to solve this and bring in the bastard who killed Nightbeat. 

After what seemed like hours Rewind finally stood up. "Alright I have to run s few more tests but I can tell you what I do know."

"Excellent," replied Jazz, standing up and walking over, "what have you learned?"

Rewind scratched his helm. "First off there was a lot of lighting used in this photo, meaning where ever it was taken was really dark."

That didn't seem useful. "Anything else?" asked Jazz.

"The zoom function was used," answered Rewind.

Jazz frowned. "Anything else?"

I have no idea what type of camera made this photo," sighed Rewind.

Jazz couldn't believe it, after all that time he only learned a bunch of useless nonsense? This whole thing had been a waste of time. "I guess this was a dead end," sighed Jazz.

"Were you not paying attention?" snapped Rewind, "after all I told you there is definitely something off about this print!" Rewind held it up as he explained. "Studios don't need a lot of light but from what I can tell the lighting in this photo was excessive, that can only mean it was shot somewhere other than a studio."

"Good point," muttered Jazz, "models only get their photos taken in licensed studios."

"Exactly," agreed Rewind, "also the zoom was used. I find this very odd given with what we're looking at."

"Come again?" Jazz was confused.

"Tell me," asked Rewind, "how much zoom to you think was used in this photo?"

Jazz wasn't an expert but if he had to guess a lot of zoom was used to get the close up of the Mortal Sol's face. "The whole zoom?"

"No," answered Rewind, "only 25% of zoom was used."

Jazz was still confused. "What does that mean?"

"Photographers have to be a certain distance when taking photos," explained Rewind, "if the photographer had been at the correct distance then he would have to use the whole zoom to get this shot. However, after my analysis, I believe only 25% zoom was used and that's why I said it was off."

"Please get to the point," sighed Jazz, wanting answers and not more questions to put on top of questions.

Rewind rolled his optics. "I checked and rechecked but I am certain its 25% zoom, but if that were the case then we should be seeing the whole body and not just the face. It was almost as if the camera was right in his face, and I do find that really odd since the Mortal Sol is clearly in some sort of artistic pose here." Now Rewind looked really befuddled. "That's what confused me."

"What?" Jazz had to know.

"The photo...," Rewind looked back at the print before looking back at Jazz, "this is a picture of a reflection."

Jazz was certain his brain module fell apart. "Come again?"

"I know it sounds really weird," explained Rewind, "but I doubled checked and tripled checked but the same conclusion kept coming back; this is a photo of the Mortal Sol's reflection."

Jazz snatched the print out of Rewind's hand and stared at intensely. "How can that be?" he protested, "if this were a reflection shouldn't we be seein' a camera and the photographer or something? It should be smack dab right there in the print!"

"The camera is also an issue," continued Rewind, "I know every make of every camera used by professional and unprofessional photographers but the one used to make this... I haven't a clue."

"How can you tell?" demanded Jazz.

"It would take a super long time to explain so here's the short version, in each pixel there is a pattern of sorts that certain cameras leave behind. I've never seen this pixel pattern before and trust me on this, it's my job to know every single one." Rewind took a deep vent before continuing. "I can also tell it's a reflection because of the way the light is in the print and I'm just as confused as you at how this picture was taken."

Jazz could not believe that this simple print was full of so many riddles. He didn't doubt Rewind's expertise, Prowl wouldn't get anyone who wasn't a professional. 

"I guess asking the Mortal Sol himself about this print is out of the question?" suggested Rewind.

"He'll fire me if he finds out I had this," sighed Jazz, "I was really hopin' we'd get somewhere with this."

"We still can," assured Rewind, "I have to go grab the equipment but I can run a test to find out where this print came from."

"Really?" Jazz felt his hope renew.

"There is a way to track where a print was made; the place it was printed so to speak," explained Rewind, heading for the door, "stay here and I'll grab my stuff, I might be a while so please have some patience."

With Jazz left alone he stared back at the print with curious optics. How could such a simple print hold so many secrets? There had to be some sort of reason this print was important to the investigation, but how it fit in was still something he didn't understand. He activated his comm in order to contact Prowl and in less then a minute he responded. "Anything to report?" he asked in his cool voice. Jazz explained everything that Rewind had told him about the print and the tactician didn't once question anything Jazz told him, clearly his confidence in Rewind went beyond mere words. Once all had been said, Prowl went silent as he tried to figure out how the picture was taken.

"I do have some idea," he murmured, "but I need to make a call to confirm something."

"Cool," responded Jazz, "I'm just waitin' on Rewind to change cone back with some gear. Apparently he can tell me where the print was made."

"Good," responded Prowl, "report back when you're done."

Jazz smirked a little, feeling the need to tease. "You don't wanna say thanks to Rewind?"

"Oh please, even if I do he'll just call me an emotionless table flipper and tell me to go frag myself," sighed Prowl.

"Table flipper?" Jazz was curious but before he could ask Prowl hanged up.

Jazz was going to have to ask Rewind about this whole table flipping thing, a deep desire to learn why Prowl had earned such an unusual nickname. It would appear he would find out soon as the door to the lab opened behind him, announcing Rewind's return.

"Hey Rewind, can you tell me why Prowl is afraid you'd call him a table flipper?" he asked.

Spinning around, the first and last thing he saw was a large fist colliding with his face. 

\---------------------------

Jazz groaned as he onlined his optics, reaching up to rub his swollen face. Everything ached and his mind was a complete mess. He tried to push himself up but instantly flinched when he observed his surroundings.

"What the hell?"

He wasn't in the lab anymore, he was in some bizarre landscape he'd never seen before, glowing towers that flickered on and off as if they were just about to go out permanently surrounded him alone my with eerie music. Wandering around these towers were 'Bots who danced around and smiled sweetly, their performance was all but creepy, their armour looking like it was ready to shatter, their limbs ready to break. Looking around some more Jazz found that he had been laying upon a set of steep stairs that spiralled upwards to Primus knew where, reaching up until it vanished into the void of a sky.

Staring upwards a flash of red caught his optics. High up along the stairway he spotted none other than Sideswipe slowly ascending the never ending steps.

"Kid!" Jazz tried calling out to him but Sideswipe ignored him and continued his climb. He tried again but Sideswipe just kept on going and going until he was almost a speck. It was then that Jazz spotted something else up there with him. Something dark and unnatural, slithering its way after the other mech. "Aw scrap!"

Jazz started to climb up after them. He tried running but the air around him felt like he was wading through thick oil. He continued to call out to Sideswipe, trying to get closer to warn him about the thing that was following him, but Sideswipe continued to ignore him and climb onwards. All Jazz could do was follow.

Looking up at the black thing following Sideswipe, he watched in horror as it plucked up the dancing 'Bots, smashing them until their armour shattered and used their remains to forge more steps. Looking down Jazz was mortified to find the steps he had been walking upon were made from corpses, their expressions either relaxed or horrified. That thing made this stairway? Why? Where did it lead? All Jazz could do was follow.

It felt like an eternity had passed but Jazz finally reached the summit. He found himself standing on a floating platform made from glass. Peering down Jazz felt uneasy as he stared down at a small world made from glowing towers, the stairs that he had climbed almost looked like a bridge. Looking back up Jazz spotted Sideswipe, his back to him and standing dangerously close to the edge of the glass platform. "Sideswipe," he called out.

Once again Sideswipe ignored him, almost as if he couldn't even hear his voice. Jazz took a step closer but the moment his pede hit the floor, the glass began to shatter. Everything began to shake and Jazz fought to keep his balance. Looking back at Sideswipe he was horrified to see that dark shape crawl up from the edge of the platform and reached for him with clawed hands.

"Sideswipe get away from it!" Jazz took another step and the glass finally shattered beneath him, his frame falling through. He cried out and grabbed onto the edge of the jagged hole he made, staring down at the endless drop beneath him. He looked back up and saw that Sideswipe was now standing above him, staring down at him with empty optics, that black shape standing behind him. 

Before Jazz could say anything he felt something latch onto his leg. Looking down he saw that the corpse of Nightbeat was staring up at him. "N-Nightbeat?"

"I was wrong, but I was right."

"What?" Jazz didn't understand.

"Wake up Jazz!"

\------------------------------

Jazz jerked up, gasping as his optics were blinded by a bright light. His spark was pulsing fast and his vents were working overtime to cool him down. Coolant dripped down his face and with shaky hands he reached to wipe it away.

"Jazz, what happened?"

Looking up he spotted the familiar small frame of Rewind, kneeling down next to him with optics full of concern. "Are you alright?"

Groaning as he forced himself to sit up Jazz massaged his sore head. "I feel like slag," he groaned.

"We're you attacked?" asked Rewind, "you look like you got punched by a jackhammer."

That explained the pain though it felt like he got run over by a rampaging Dinobot. Jazz's mind was a little groggy but he did recall seeing a fist before everything went dark but that was all he remembered. It was obvious as day that he was purposely attacked. Who attacked him though and why? He pulled himself up, Rewind trying to help, and leaned against one of the work tables. Everything felt like scrap.

"How long was I out?" asked Jazz.

"I was gone for over an hour," stated Rewind, "I already called security and the place has gone into lockdown."

That meant whoever punched him was long gone though the question that remained was why did somebody attack him in the first place. When his mind was back in working order he suddenly noticed something was missing.

"Where's the print?" Jazz scanned the work bench and the floor where he had been laying but the print was nowhere to be seen. He checked his sub space and all the other tables but the print was long gone. There was only one possible explanation; it had been stolen. Was that why he was attacked? Someone came to get the print?

"It wasn't here when I got back," said Rewind looking troubled, "I'm afraid I'm no help now."

"Scrap," sighed Jazz, "I gotta call Prowl."

As Jazz reached for his comm a lot of things raced through his mind. Who was it that came in and punched his lights out? What was so important about that print that someone would enter a building full of Enforcers to steal it? Why steal it? Though those questions were indeed in need of answers he could not help but wonder what that dream was all about.

What did Nightbeat mean when he said I was wrong but, I was right?


End file.
